


Succor Him Against Himself

by perclexed



Series: Happy Highways Where I Went [7]
Category: Lewis (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emo Like Hathaway, Episode: s07e01-02 Down Among the Fearful Parts 1-2, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Sensual Attraction, Skin Hunger, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:37:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4319802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perclexed/pseuds/perclexed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after the events of “Down Among the Fearful”.  It’s been a rough day, what with Hathaway rugby tackling a syringe wielding murder.</p><p>Hathaway deserves ALL THE CUDDLES.  Robbie needs a few too.  Darcy's just the woman for the job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't thank Tehomet, Medie and Tinzelda enough for their kind assistance and general cheerleading for this little universe. They are the best of people for continuing to humor and help the author. Any remaining mistakes are totally my fault.
> 
> This story takes place after the _Lewis_ episode "Down Among the Fearful". 
> 
> Please check the notes in the first chapter for additional tags for this story.

“Robbie! To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” Darcy leans back in her chair and kicks her feet up on her desk. Today’s shoe selection is a lovely pair of Alexander Birman black leather and snakeskin cage sandals. They look amazing with the tight blank tank topped with a sheer black blouse and a pair of jeans that make her legs look absolutely fantastic. The blood red polish on her toes pleases her all out of proportion, as she likes to imagine it’s the blood of the gormless assholes who’ve been trying to discredit Jane and her work since the Convergence. It had been tough going, making a decision this morning between the sandals or the black Prada floral embroidered silk slingbacks that she hadn’t had a chance to wear yet, but she was saving those to go with the pencil skirt she’d recently acquired.

Say what you will about the ridiculously stressful life of being a superhero-adjacent woman. The benefits, in this case, are pretty damn amazeballs for someone who has been happy to live in denim and oversized flannel until now. Not that she doesn’t spend a good amount of time in those clothes still, but now that she has the option to play a little, she’s taken to it like a duck to water. Like an Asgardian to the Bifrost even.

“It’s been what I think you’d call ‘a day’ here, lass. I just wanted to hear your voice.” Robbie’s own voice sounds strangely subdued, coming through the phone.

“What happened?!?” Darcy sits up, legs falling off the desk somewhat less than gracefully, but whatever. No one is around to see. 

Robbie’s quiet for an alarming amount of time. 

“Robbie?” All of Darcy’s ‘shit’s going down’ senses are now tingling. Not. Good.

“It was just this case.” His voice has gone a bit ragged now, and he clears his throat. “We caught the murderer today, but….” Robbie’s voice fades away again, and now there’s a wet sort of note in his breathing that she knows signals a manly struggle against tears.

“Are you okay? Is Hathaway okay?” Darcy feels like she can be forgiven if her voice rapidly climbs the scale towards ‘shrill’. She’s already picked up her tablet and shot a message over to Jane, telling her she’s got to head to Oxford immediately. 

“Yeah, we are now. James had a close call though. A really close call.” Robbie’s voice is a bit stronger now, which is good, but Darcy wishes she could see his face. She inserts an earpiece in her left ear, and smoothly transfers the call to the device as she closes and slips her laptop into the satchel that’s doubling as a purse. She shoots a text to Hawkeye, asking for his assistance in getting to Oxford, tagging it with the code for ‘not a true emergency but need to get there ASAP’. He responds immediately, saying that one of the cars and drivers from the pool will be waiting for her at the curb. A quick check to make sure her wallet is in there along with her emergency kit, and she’s heading out the door. 

“What do you mean, a close call?” Darcy makes her way through the halls of the building where Jane’s office is located rather faster than she would have prior to her hours of training with Black Widow. Being able to run or at least power walk in heels has been a nice, if possibly unintended side effect to the drills Natasha’s had Darcy and Jane doing at least every other day. Thankfully the back door to the building is a just short walk from the curb where she can already see one of the familiar Stark secure vehicles idling.

“I really can’t talk about it over the phone, but if not for an inch and a half of foam, I’d be calling you with horrible news.” The quaver in Robbie’s voice is undeniable now, and she nods at the driver who’s holding the door open for her. Darcy tosses her bag into the backseat and slides in right behind it.

“I’m sorry, did you say foam?” Thanks to Stark tech the call is crystal clear, but even knowing that she still isn’t sure she heard him correctly. The driver slips into his seat and they’re in motion before her sentence is even finished.

“Ah, it has been a few days since we talked, hasn’t it? I didn’t tell you about the little rear ender we had a few days ago?” Robbie is obviously relieved to steer the conversation towards slightly less emotional territory for the moment. Darcy listens intently, frowning as the driver doesn’t head immediately towards the main road to Oxford but instead follows the signs to Cambridge airport. She taps out another message to Barton, who confirms that the driver is heading in the right direction.

“You were in a car accident and you didn’t tell me?” Darcy will deny to her dying day that her voice came out as a squawk, and scowls into the rear view mirror where she can see the driver biting his lip in an attempt to hide his amusement.

“It was just a little bump, pet. I’m fine. James, on the other hand, had a bit of whiplash to deal with. Enough that he had to wear one of those big foam collar things.” Robbie’s smile is plain as day in his voice, which is a relief. Whatever is going on can’t be too bad if he can smile right now.

“Please tell me you got a picture. If you got a picture, I will forgive you for not telling me about it immediately.” She hopes she doesn’t have to only imagine the look of pained affront on Hathaway’s face at the indignity of having to wear such a ridiculous device in public.

“Of course I did. What do you take me for? Give me a second and I’ll send it along to you now. If we get disconnected I’ll call you right back.” Darcy smiles, amused as always at Robbie’s playing up his seeming inability to handle technology. He knows that she knows that he is completely full of shit in this regard. Not that he’s going to be hacking into anyone’s systems anytime soon, but she suspects that he occasionally plays into the preconceptions and lack of faith some people have about him and his abilities. When it comes to Hathaway and his daughter Lyn, she figures he does it so they can feel useful to him. He’ll indulge those he loves in surprising ways, and she’s pretty sure he takes a sort of private glee in doing it without them ever suspecting he’s having them on.

Robbie Lewis is exceptionally sneaky at times.

They are so totally related.

She listens to the rustling and tapping sounds as Robbie looks for the picture. In fairly short order (and definitely far less time than either his partner or his daughter would credit), her phone pings with a new text. She opens it and immediately bursts into a flurry of giggles. Yep. Hathaway looks just as icy and annoyed as she thought he’d be. It's not quite a cat's 'cone of shame' after visiting the vet, but it does produce a similar effect on him. She does wonder if not being able to wear his tie with his suit while strapped into the device might have something to do with it. Very particular about his presentation is Hathaway.

“Oh my god. This is…you have made my week with this picture, Robbie. You really have.” Darcy looks up and out the window. They’ve reached the airport in what must be a record time, and they’re heading towards what appears to be….

Is that a helicopter? 

“Hey, can I call you back in just a bit? I need to go take care of something, but I promise I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. You’re fine, Hathaway’s fine, everything is good for now. Yes or no?” Darcy hates to cut the call right when Robbie appears to have relaxed a bit, but at least he’s gotten the worst of the news out of the way and she nods as he confirms that they’re all fine for now.

“Yeah, we’re all right. Hearing your voice helps, so thanks, Darcy.” Robbie really does sound better.

“I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Don’t think you’re off the hook for telling me what’s happened today. If I have to arrange a secure channel I will.” Darcy isn’t actually bluffing about that, but it would appear that she’ll be in Oxford way before she thought she would.

They say their goodbyes right as the driver brings the car to a halt surprisingly close to where the helicopter’s rotors are beginning to turn. Darcy tucks her phone and the earpiece into her pocket, withdrawing an elastic to secure her hair and uses it as the driver opens her door and hands her out of the car, then collects her bag for her. A few steps later and she’s ducking into the rear seat of the helicopter. The driver hands her bag over, points to a headset on the seat next to her, then closes and secures the door. He gives a thumbs up as he retreats, and she returns the gesture before settling a headset over her curls.

Clint’s in the pilot’s seat, and turns around with a shit-eating grin. “Testing, testing. Can you hear me?”

Darcy gives him her best unimpressed look. “Seriously? A helicopter?”

Clint turns and faces forward again, apparently conversing with the air traffic controllers. A beat more, and they’re smoothly rising into the air. Darcy’s quiet, peering out the window and just allowing herself to enjoy the novelty of the experience. Common sense dictates that you don’t distract the pilot on take off, and she has no desire to experience an air accident as a result of her curiosity.

Once they appear to be on their way, Clint speaks again. “Well, I thought about a Quinjet but I figure we’ll leave that for a genuine emergency. Helicopters might be a bit unusual but they aren’t unknown. Lots of high profile academics and lecturers, and frankly just rich people get around in these. Tony’s got money to burn, and I need to be there with you anyway.”

Darcy sighs. The necessity of having a shadow wherever she goes has faded from burning annoyance to a grim sort of resignation. SHIELD hasn’t made many inroads into discovering who had tried to kidnap her during her first visit to Oxford, and while Stark’s staff has taken over most of the security detail for her and Jane while they’re in Cambridge, Darcy is always accompanied by Hawkeye when she leaves the cozy environs of the university. 

Even when they’re heading to another equally cozy university city where her cousin happens to live.

“And you gotta admit, this beats sitting in all that lovely traffic this time of day.” Clint’s smug, and with good reason. Darcy can see a long line of cars below them, barely moving, and she is actually really glad she’s not down there among them, going nowhere fast.

But seriously. A _helicopter_. Newly indulged shoe fetish aside, there are moments where she can’t believe how far they’ve come in a few short months. Not all that long ago she was wondering how she could squeeze another box of pop tarts for Jane out of their budget, and now she’s zipping over to see family in a helicopter. Wearing designer shoes, carrying a bag that cost as much as a year’s tuition back at Culver, and with an Avenger at her side. 

That’s not even getting into how the god of Thunder shows up every Sunday morning in her bedroom with a mug of coffee. To his credit, he’s smart enough to bring the coffee in her special mug AND offer to carry her across the street so she doesn’t have to get out of her jammies or soil her feet, if she wouldn’t mind making the delicious and fluffy cakes of the pan for breakfast?

She’s never going to get over an alien being so tickled by Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes. Sunday brunch is a delight when Thor’s around. Jane has actually allowed herself to take a few hours off, and spend time with her boyfriend, Darcy, Erik Selvig and if they’re around, Natasha and Clint. It’s become an oasis of sanity in the midst of their fairly chaotic lives.

Darcy is pretty sure the massive amount of carbs they all consume during brunch has a lot to do with the serenity of those hours. 

She pulls herself back to the here and now and answers Clint. “No, sorry. I do appreciate it. It’s just weird.” 

“You’re moving up in the world, Lewis. Enjoy it. Pepper and Tony do this all the time.” Clint starts talking to the tower at Kidlington, and Darcy just shakes her head. That’s another thing that she’s still not quite used to. Having Tony Stark and Pepper Potts in the speed dial list on her phone. Tony’s money is paying for all the little luxuries she’s started to enjoy, and she hasn’t yet figured out a way to stop feeling guilty about it. The last time she’d talked to Pepper, the CEO had asked her to perhaps frame it in her mind as ‘hazard pay’, which Darcy had to admit made it easier to accept that she can do the ‘chip and PIN’ routine anywhere without holding her breath, waiting for the card to be denied due to insufficient credit.

She’s pretty sure she could buy the helicopter they’re currently using with one of those cards and the cost wouldn’t begin to approach the limit that’s been authorized. If there’s actually any kind of limit at all.

Whenever Darcy thinks about this, the world goes a little weird around the edges and she starts feeling faint, so she resolutely pulls her mind back to the reason she’s in transit.

Robbie Lewis and his partner, James Hathaway. Two of Oxfordshire Police’s finest officers. At first glance, you probably couldn’t have picked a pair with more different personalities. Robbie’s from the north of England, and is a congenial, fairly easygoing soul. You almost instinctively trust him. He’s just got that kind of face. 

Hathaway is buttoned up, locked down and as soon as he opens his mouth, his ridiculous intellect is immediately obvious. It’s not that he shows off, or tries to make you feel inferior the way plenty of the asshats that have been flocking to Cambridge to work with Jane try to do. His vast ocean of knowledge is one of the places Hathaway is utterly confident in himself, and it shows. He really doesn’t suffer fools gladly, and though he’s at least twenty years younger than his partner, you wouldn’t know it by the way he acts. 

So different on the surface of things, and yet they have one of the most solid, enduring partnerships Darcy’s ever witnessed. Formidable on their own, but when working in sync they are amazing. She got glimpses of it during their first meeting at the Convergence, and all the time she’s spent with them since has only reinforced her opinion that together they’re greater than the sum of their parts. 

To be honest, she’s a little envious of their extraordinary friendship. Which is ridiculous, because she’s pretty sure people see her and Jane in a similar way. She’s not been with Jane as long as Hathaway’s been with her cousin though. Intense bonds can form ridiculously quickly, but it does take time to nurture that connection. Robbie Lewis and James Hathaway have been at it nearly double the amount of time Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster have known one another.

So if Hathaway’s been in mortal peril at some point today, it’s understandable that Robbie is rattled.

What she can’t figure out is why they aren’t recovering together at Robbie’s flat. From what she’s gathered in the past, that’s their standard _modus operandi_ when one or the other has had a close call. Grab some takeaway, hit up an off-license for a pack of beer or some wine (or a bottle of something harder if the situation warrants), and park their bums on Robbie’s couch for some bad telly while they slowly relax. A few hours spent with their partner nearby, knowing the other is safe and _right there_ will generally set them to rights.

Lather, rinse, repeat for a few days if it was a more intense scare, including a night or two for Hathaway in Robbie’s spare room, but that’s the general pattern.

So what’s different this time?

She’s pulled from her musings when the helicopter’s struts touch down on the tarmac at Kidlington. A few moments to shut it down, and Clint’s out of the cockpit and helping her down out of the back. He speaks briefly with the Stark personnel who will handle lockdown of the vehicle while they’re here, and takes a set of keys from one of them. A few steps to the waiting car and she’s tossing her bag in the back and sliding in next to Clint.

“Oh, hey, you might want to grab your tablet. I had JARVIS do a run through your cousin’s latest case, and he should’ve pushed a summary to your tablet by now.”

That’s another thing she hasn’t quite gotten used to. The casual and really far too easy appropriation of data from systems that a Stark resource shouldn’t have any kind of access to. But JARVIS appears to exercise an exquisite level of discretion when he goes on these little data raids, and only provides her with what she needs to paint a fairly broad picture of the situation. 

Darcy does feel a little bit guilty about having insider knowledge about their latest case, but not so much that she won’t use the information to help guide her chat with Robbie. A grief-stricken woman, losing her grip on reality in the wake of her daughter’s death. Who found out her psychic wasn’t actually a psychic at all, but instead someone dabbling in unauthorized field research for an experiment in psychology. She’d taken her rage out on him, his research partner, and the professor who ran the department.

A social experiment that’s resulted in two murders, an attempt on the professor, and Hathaway, nearly victim number three. He’d prevented Katherine Dutta from stabbing her final victim with a hypodermic loaded with a powerful tranquilizer geared towards large animals like elephants, and nearly got it in the neck when she, in her rage, blindly stabbed at him with the needle and pressed the plunger.

That cervical collar, a souvenir of their fender bender earlier in the week, the ‘inch and a half of foam’ that Robbie had talked about, had prevented a fatal puncture and harmlessly dispersed the lethal dose of the drug instead of killing Hathaway in a matter of moments.

Darcy closes her eyes and reaches for her wrist, locating the pressure points Natasha had shown her weeks ago. When steady pressure is applied, the nausea roiling in her gut will subside after a few moments. 

Darcy’s sick with the idea that Hathaway’s come so close to death today. But what she can’t quite figure out is why there is no mention of either officer carrying syringes loaded with the antidote. JARVIS has included the information that the veterinary-strength etorphine has a human antidote. Why on earth were either of them running around without the antidote on them?

The airport in Oxford isn’t very far away from where Robbie lives, and they spend the journey in companionable silence. Clint’s been around her long enough to know when she needs to be left to herself. They’ve gotten to be good friends, and they take great delight in slinging shit at each another. If she had to put a label on it, she’d call him her bro. Which is a little weird because she’s pretty sure he’d like to get into her pants, but no one’s perfect.

As they pull onto Robbie’s street she turns to him. “Would you mind hanging around here for a bit? I just have a feeling that I’m going to need you to take me to a couple of places, and one of them is probably going to be Hathaway’s flat.”

“Sure, I’m good. Whatever you need.” Clint takes a moment to peer at her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little spooked.”

“Actually, let’s park around the corner for a bit, if you don’t mind?” Clint shrugs but does as she asks. He finds a spot at the curb and pulls in, shutting off the engine. 

“You’ve been the senior officer sometimes, right? Like, in a partnership or a team?” Darcy unbuckles the seat belt and turns to look at Clint.

“Sure,” Clint says. “Lots of times.”

“How’d you handle it when someone on the team fucked up? When it didn’t result in a disaster but really easily could have?” Not that Darcy considers herself Robbie’s superior, but maybe Clint might have some insight on how she can approach the conversation she really feels she needs to have with Robbie.

“Unemotionally, if possible. Ahht! Before you jump down my throat and accuse me of being a misogynist, I would tell anyone that. It can be really hard to remove ‘the feels’ out of the situation. But after a while you sort of go to a place in your head where you can be objective and detached about whatever it is that went wrong.” Clint drums his thumbs against the steering wheel. “Best case scenario? You deal with the consequences and don’t do it again. Worst case? It not only follows you forever but you lose your nerve, in which case, it’s probably better that you’re out of the field or the business entirely.”

Now he turns to look at her, too. “But there’s a lot of room in between, and most of the time the actual outcome lands somewhere in between. If this has anything to do with Lewis, based on what I know of the man he’s probably already raking himself over the coals if something went wrong.” Clint nods. “He’ll see himself as the senior officer and therefore the one responsible, even if it was something Hathaway’s done. It’s part of what makes him so good at his job. You’d be surprised how often you _don’t_ find that kind of leadership in our kinds of organizations.”

“Well, if what JARVIS pulled off the police servers is correct, Hathaway nearly died today but it didn’t need to be quite as traumatic as it was. And I’m… kind of freaked out but also kind of pissed, because that is a huge fucking mistake to have made, and I don’t know which of them made it.” It’s a good thing Darcy didn’t get this info before they landed in Oxford. She won’t have time to work up a righteous snit fit about it, which can only help her discussion with Robbie. Clint’s perspective is also helping. It’s not surprising, but it is unusual that their conversations take such a serious turn.

Darcy wonders how often Clint’s been at the ‘worst case scenario’ end of the spectrum with SHIELD after Loki. She’ll have to make up a batch of chocolate cherry cowboy cookies for him as thanks for even skirting the edges of the topic, in order to help her gather her thoughts before she knocks on Robbie’s door. 

“Yeah, he’s probably already beating himself up. If you want my advice, try to stay detached. Listen, really listen to him, and calmly refute his points if you can. And if he did fuck up, acknowledge it and ask if he’ll forget it again. You and I both know he won’t, so that should be the end of that.” Clint nods again. “He probably just needs to talk it out with someone, and everyone else he knows is too close to him or to the situation. 

“There’s Hathaway, who is probably not in the best state of mind to be talking about this today. The doc, who might tell Lewis what he wants to hear, or might tell him what he needs to hear, but for a doctor I think her bedside manner could probably use a little work.” Clint actually likes the pathologist, as much as he likes anyone in the medical field. Actually, he probably likes Laura quite a bit more than he does anyone in the medical field. 

“Well, most of her patients are dead. Probably not a lot of backchat.” They share a smile. 

Clint continues. “He could try to talk to his superior, which I gather is not really on the table as an option. He could talk to a peer, but cops are probably some of the worst gossips out there, so that’s also probably off the table. And his daughter is likely to get stuck on the part where they were in mortal danger, which turns the discussion into Lewis reassuring her and not actually getting what he needs.”

Darcy’s reminded that Clint sees a lot, and maybe better than she can right now, seeing as how he’s a bit removed from it all. He’s got a bit of distance. Given his call sign, he probably sees better at a distance anyway. 

“I think it’s a good thing we came, if that’s why we’re here. I mean, we could ask Thor to be open to talking, which we can do after you’ve done your thing. If it’s not about his family, he’s usually got some pretty good insight, seeing as how he’s a prince and a leader of men for longer than I care to think about. There’s Nat, but she’s not here at the moment, and I’m not entirely sure he’d be comfortable talking with her anyway. He doesn’t know her very well. And I would offer, but, well. I don’t think he likes me.” Clint looks faintly regretful here.

“It’s not that he doesn’t like you. It’s just… first impressions.” Which had been Clint sexually harassing Robbie’s newly discovered cousin, and though Darcy knew it was because they were bros, Robbie and Hathaway had literally jumped to her defense.

It had been adorable. And annoying. But definitely completely unnecessary. 

It also probably doesn’t help that Clint flirts like mad with the pathologist every time they have the opportunity to speak. Whenever Robbie’s in range to hear, he turns a fairly unflattering shade of red, which can’t be good for his blood pressure. She’s a little worried about Robbie’s teeth too. Darcy’s pretty sure she heard one crack the last time Clint suggested something somewhat risque to Laura, Robbie was grinding his teeth so hard.

“Yeah, I know.” He grins at her. “So, basically, you’re probably the only one he feels like he can talk to without worrying about whether it’s going to come back and bite him in the ass. Whether or not you can convince him he’s not being a burden to talk about this stuff with someone who’s young enough to be his daughter and then some? Eh. Might have to overcome some obstacles there.”

“Well, I knew he needed me. It wasn’t until JARVIS did his unauthorized data raid that I knew why.” Darcy sighs.

“Hey. You can do this. I mean, you tased the god of thunder. Twice.” Clint catches her eye and nods encouragingly. “This? No big deal.” 

Darcy smiles in remembrance. “Yeah, you’re right. I am awesome and I can do this. So why are we still sitting here? ‘Crack on’, as they might say over here.”

Clint grins and starts the car again. “Yes, ma’am.”

It doesn’t take very long for them to circle back around to Robbie’s building. Clint pulls over once again, and Darcy hops out, pulling her bag from the back. “It may be half an hour to an hour, but I think I may end up going over to Hathaway’s. We’re not exactly close, but if they aren’t sitting on Robbie’s couch together, I think someone is going to need to check on him tonight.”

“I’ll be here.” 

Darcy nods and shuts the door. Digging her phone out of her pocket, she hits Robbie’s number. “Hey,” she says when he answers. “Got time to talk? You at home?”

“I do, and I am.” There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the line, but by then Darcy’s already knocking on the door to his flat. “One second pet, there’s someone at the door.”

“You don’t say.” She grins at his utter look of surprise when he opens it to find her standing on the other side.

“Darcy! How…? We spoke less than an hour ago!” Robbie’s gobsmacked. “You didn’t catch a lift with Thor, did you?” He stands back and gestures her into the flat.

“I would have, actually, but no. My mode of transport was something a little less exotic than the Mjolnir Express. Clint brought me over in a helicopter.” She disconnects the call, slips the phone back in her pocket, drops her bag, and throws her arms around him. “I just had a feeling you needed me here. So we made it happen.”

The way his breath catches and his arms come around to squeeze her tight, his grip bordering on painful, tells her that her instincts were spot on. He’s completely rattled by the events of the day.

They stand there for a bit, but eventually Robbie pulls back, clearing his throat. “I’m glad you came, Darcy. Come in and put your feet up.”

She goes through and plops down on the couch, actually kind of glad to be off her feet for a bit. Darcy may have gotten better at moving around in heels, but she hadn’t counted on basically sprinting out of the office earlier. Monty, meowing loudly, comes barreling around a corner and leaps into her lap. He’s obviously just woken up, and is thoroughly rumpled and adorable. “Mrrrowr!” He flops on her lap and presents his belly for rubbing, and Darcy complies with his fuzzy demands.

“He’s missed you,” Robbie says from the kitchen. “Beer?” 

Darcy declines and asks for a glass of water instead, and eventually Robbie runs out of things to putter with in the kitchen and comes to sit beside her. 

“So,” she says.

“So,” he sighs.

The sound of Monty’s ecstatic rumbling is the only audible thing for a bit.

“Wanna tell me what’s up?” Her voice is gentle, but Robbie flinches as though she’s shouted at him. Darcy reaches out and takes his hand in her own, squeezing gently.

That squeeze appears to be the key that unlocks the dam, and a veritable flood of words pour out of Robbie. He gives her a first hand account of all the facts she’s gleaned from JARVIS’ report, and it’s that much more awful when she hears it from the perspective of someone in the middle of it all. She doesn’t interrupt, just lets him talk, squeezing his hand occasionally when it’s obvious he needs a bit more support. 

Hearing him talk about the first meeting with Dutta and how horrifying it must have been for he and his wife to come to the decision that their daughter was better off being euthanized, she knows he’s thinking about how he might react if it were Lyn.

She rests her head against his shoulder as he talks of chasing after whoever knocked down Vicki Walmsley, only to return to find her dead on the ground and Hathaway reeling, emotionally.

“And then we’d figured it out. We knew it was the wife, and both of us are running through the Covered Market, looking for this woman driven mad by grief, and seeing that sanctimonious arse of a professor and her bearing down on him. Knowing I wasn’t going to be able to reach them in time, and then James rugby tackled her out of nowhere! But he didn’t have a great grip on her, and she was thrashing about like a greased eel and….”

Robbie’s voice has gotten progressively rougher as the tale went on, but here he stops. The grip on her hand is so tight it’s beginning to hurt, and even Monty has paused to look up at his owner. 

“And watching her stab at him with that needle was possibly the most horrible moment of my life, outside of getting the news that Val had been in an accident.” His voice breaks, and his face crumples, and he lets go of her to cover his face with his hands. And this is what Darcy was waiting for. She calmly scoops up Monty and gently sets him down on the floor, and then reaches up to pull Robbie’s head to her shoulder. Her shirt is immediately soaked with tears, and he clings to her as he lets all that fear go.

She starts stroking his back and humming a lullaby in an effort to soothe him. It’s one she remembers her mother singing to her when she was a child, and while she can’t quite recall the words, she knows the melody by heart. When she feels spectacularly crappy, she’ll hum it to herself as she drifts off to sleep. 

It doesn’t take too long for him to cry himself out, and all too soon he releases her to sit up and back against the couch. “Here,” she says, spying a box of tissues on the coffee table. “Wipe and blow.” He meekly does as she asks, working his way through a few tissues in an effort to mop his face dry. She snags the trash can at the end of the couch and he tosses the used tissues in. As soon as he calms, she hands him her glass of water. “Drink?” He nods in thanks and drains half the glass in one go.

Darcy reaches out and runs a hand along his forearm. “Better?”

Monty takes this moment to hop back up onto the couch, only this time he climbs Robbie’s front and shoves his head under Robbie’s chin. “Mrrrrrrt,” the cat says, rubbing his cheek back and forth along Robbie’s jaw.

The chuckle sounds broken, and a bit rusty, but it’s a good sound nonetheless. “Silly moggie,” he says, but he gives in and provides the petting the cat demands. Monty’s purr fills the silence, and they just take a moment.

Robbie finally clears his throat and turns his head to look at her. His eyes are red, and still a bit damp, but they’re clearer now. “Sorry about that.”

“Are you kidding? After all the times I have cried all over you? How many of your shirts have I wrecked? I mean, at least I don’t have to worry about you ruining my shirt with mascara. I don’t, right?” She leans in, pretending to examine his lashes for product, and he rolls his eyes at her. While she’s there she plants a smacker on his cheek, then retreats.

“Seriously though. Robbie. Anytime. I may not have answers, but I can listen. And, well, you feel better, right?”

He considers for a moment, then nods, slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Well, there you go then. There’s no shame in crying. I don’t know why so many guys are so ashamed to cry in front of a woman.” She stops before she launches into an epic rant, and notices he’s got the weirdest smile on his face. “What?”

“It’s just… you reminded me of Val, just then. She used to say the same thing. Always practical, my Valerie.” For once the mention of his wife doesn’t immediately bring a shadow to his eyes. No, the only thing she can see in them right now is warmth, a bit of gratitude, and a clear affection that has her looking down and blushing.

“Well. I wish I could’ve met her. She sounds like my kind of woman.”

Here Robbie snorts a laugh. “Oh, now that would’ve been a sight to see. She’d have adopted you the moment she laid eyes on you. No one would stand a chance against the two of you, united.”

“Which is, of course, how it should be.” They exchange another grin. “I think your beer’s gotten warm. Another?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” Darcy pats his knee, then levers herself up and off the couch, clicking her way to the fridge. She pulls two bottles of Abingdon Bridge out and pops the tops. “Glass?”

“Nah.” 

A few steps and she’s sitting down again, propping her feet up on the coffee table. They both take a sip and sigh contentedly.

Robbie immediately starts fiddling with the label on his bottle, which is a pretty good sign that he’s not quite done for the night.

“Okay, what else. There’s something you’re not telling me. I’m going to guess it’s either still related to the case, or to Hathaway, or both.”

“Maybe you’re the one who should be a detective.” Robbie sets his beer on the table and crosses his arms defensively. She almost regrets saying something and ruining the brief moment of relaxation he’d had going on, but it’s probably best he gets it all out in one go.

“I’ll leave that to you, thanks. I have no desire to spend time in one of those uniforms, though I will admit that the checked pattern on the hat band adds a little something to the ensemble.” 

“You could go the private detective route.”

“Robbie.” Darcy’s not going to let his feeble attempts at distracting her succeed.

He sighs and looks down at his hands. “Well, to be blunt. I dropped the ball. James should never have gotten that close to a lethal dose. Vicki Walmsley should still be alive.” Robbie’s fists clench, and he shakes his head in disgust.

“Part of the investigation was going out to one of the local riding centers to talk to the owner about the theft of some of the tranquilizer being used in the murders. To make a long story short, the owner said something along the lines of how she was the only one who has could administer the drug, ‘and always with an antidote to hand’. She went on to talk about how an accidental injection can be fatal to a horse, and I said, ‘and for a human being too’.

“I was so focused on getting a list of people who might have access to the drug that the fact there was an antidote went right over me head.” The self-loathing evident in Robbie’s face is painful to see. “I even said it. ‘And for a human being too’. And it never occurred to me that maybe, just maybe the antidote was for the human doing the injecting, and not just the horse. They’re trying to get a needle into a frightened animal in pain. I can imagine that there’s a high chance of an accidental stab wound, and that stuff is lethal to humans in just about any concentration.

“Darcy, we should never have been out there looking for a murderer without both of us carrying that antidote.” Robbie is silent for a long moment, and Darcy reaches for his hand again. He lets her take it without protest, but otherwise doesn’t respond.

“James could’ve died today, and we could’ve stopped that from happening even if she did get that needle in him. And that? That would’ve been my fault. I might as well have killed him meself.” He sighs, slumping. “Hell, maybe it’s time to pack it all in if I’ve made such an obvious mistake.” In that moment, Robbie looks like every one of his years on the force are weighing on him, pulling him down into a pit that she has no desire to see him wallow in.

Darcy gets that he needs to talk this out, but this has gone far enough. “Bullshit.”

His eyes fly to hers, wide and startled. “What?”

“You heard me.” She reaches out and grasps his chin, pulling his face around so they can see each other’s eyes clearly. She wants nothing to get in the way of him hearing what she’s about to say. “Let me ask you a few questions, all right?”

He nods, mystified but at least he’s paying attention.

“Did you or did you not have Doctor Hobson identify the murder weapon for you?”

“We did. I already told you that.” Robbie looks faintly annoyed.

“Did she mention the antidote at the time? Either time? The first victim or the girl? Was it in the report? I’m assuming there was some kind of report?” Darcy knows what Laura does, but it still kind of creeps her out. She’ll take astrophysics over biology any day.

Robbie is obviously thinking back through pertinent moments on the case. He speaks slowly, obviously thinking out loud. “She mentioned the name of the drug, and that it would take a single drop to kill a man, but I don’t think she mentioned an antidote. I don’t think it was in the reports either. I mean, they were already dead. They wouldn’t need an antidote.”

“Other officers helped gather information on the case, right? I mean, you and Hathaway don’t do all the legwork yourselves. You’d never sleep if you had to do it all.”

“Er, no. There’s usually a whole team that helps gather data, follow up on questions. Look through CCTV and the like.”

Darcy presses on, relentless. “And you talked to your boss about the case. She was fully aware of the details of the investigation, and the murder weapon used in both deaths.”

Robbie nods, a furrow forming between his eyes as he frowns in thought.

“So basically, and I’m not trying to ‘manage up’ here with responsibility, but Robbie. You’ve just told me that no one in that entire group of people caught that there was an antidote to the murder weapon. And one of them a doctor. All those people involved in this case for, what, at least four or five days? And not one of them twigged to the fact that there was a human antidote, and that you and Hathaway, as the ones questioning potential suspects, should have that antidote to hand?” Darcy stares straight into his eyes, willing him to understand.

“It was a mistake, but it’s a mistake everyone on the team made. This is not your fault alone.”

She waits a beat, and to her relief the shadows that have lingered in Robbie’s eyes since she got here start to clear. “I still feel responsible, as the lead detective, but you’re right. Someone, somewhere along the line should’ve caught it. The team that searched the Dutta’s house should have had it to hand too, in case someone dropped the vial or stuck themselves with a syringe that had been pre-loaded or something.”

“So, while your ass might get chewed a little bit, when you point this out to your boss, because I know you and I know you will want to take responsibility even if it’s not just you? Perhaps recommend a change in procedure. Anytime something like this comes up, one of the things that should be done immediately is check whether there’s an antidote and anyone likely to come into contact with a suspect should be carrying it and know how to administer it. On themselves or on their partner. The cost of a few syringes of antidote are a hell of a lot less than the loss of a human life that could’ve been prevented. Tell your boss to stick that in her pipe and smoke it if she gives you grief about the cost.”

Robbie sags back against the couch and closes his eyes. She can tell he’s trying to find some fault in her logic, but he gives it up after just a few moments. “I still feel terrible, but you’re right, lass. You’re right.”

He sits up so abruptly she starts, and then she squeaks as he sweeps her into a fierce hug. “How do you do that? Not only do you make me feel better in the span of a few minutes, but you may just have saved lives in the future with your recommendation just now.”

“Can’t. Breathe,” Darcy manages to wheeze out the words, and sucks in a gulp of air as Robbie releases her nearly as quickly as he’d seized her.

Robbie reaches out, cradles her face and places a grateful kiss on her brow. “You’re a gift, Darcy. Such a gift.”

Ah, geez. She can feel herself turning pink, but leans into the affection anyway.

Monty, feeling left out, manages to wriggle his way into the space between them, purring so loudly she can practically see his little body vibrating with it.

They break apart, laughing at the cat’s antics, and the mood lightens considerably. Robbie reaches for his beer again, and sits back once more.

Darcy hates to ask, but now that Robbie’s sorted, she feels a tug in her gut and it’s labeled ‘Hathaway’. “Given today’s high drama, why isn’t Hathaway over here, parked on this very couch, eating fair to good Indian takeaway and mocking your choices in TV programs?”

“Ah.” Robbie sighs, ruefully, and takes another pull on his beer and explains about their moment on the bench outside the Radcliffe Camera. “James was just so quiet after telling me he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to work, and I didn’t want to push him to talk when he’d quite specifically asked if we could just sit there for a bit. He so rarely asks for anything. So we did. We sat and I ate my sandwich. He held his, now that I think about it, and I don’t think he actually ate it once we did get back to the office.”

“So that was lunch, or afternoon snack. Whatever. What happened after?”

“We both got absorbed in the paperwork, and then Innocent came by and basically chased us out of the office. He was moving pretty slowly, putting on his suit jacket and the like, and I got as far as saying his name before my mobile rang. He paused, and I looked down at me phone. It was Laura, and I greeted her by name, and by the time I looked up?” Robbie sighs. “He’d already disappeared. Vanished out of our office like a wisp of smoke on the wind.”

“And you didn’t go after him?”

Now Robbie’s a bit defensive. “He’s a big lad. If he wanted company he’d say so. I figured he might need a night on his own. We’d both get a good night’s sleep and pick it up again in the morning.”

Darcy rolls her eyes at this. Frigga save her from clueless men.

“Wouldn’t he? Tell me if he needed me?”

Oblivious doesn’t even begin to describe what’s going on in front of her right now. “Didn’t you just tell me ‘he so rarely asks for anything’? You two hang out at the end of a case even when one of you hasn’t been ‘an inch and a half of foam away from death’.”

“So… I’ve basically buggered up this whole thing, is that what you’re saying?” Uh oh, now she’s gone and put him on the defensive. 

“No, Robbie. Of course not. I just think that maybe he shouldn’t be on his own tonight.” Darcy nods, decisively. That’s probably as good an opening as she’s going to get. “Look, you’ve both obviously been rattled and rattled hard by this case. Do you feel better, now that we’ve talked?”

“Aye, I do.”

“OK. Now, since I’m sure Hathaway’s been brooding since this afternoon, and has probably been thinking along the same lines you have about the antidote, I am going to take myself on over there and give him the same speech.”

Robbie’s eyes go a bit wider at this little nugget. “Er, Darcy, surely that would be better coming from me.”

“Would you have talked through this with Innocent, the way you have with me?” Darcy can see the shudder he can’t quite stifle as it shivers down his spine.

“No. No I can’t say that I would.”

“You’re his boss, basically, and even though we all know how close you are, I just think that he might need the benefit of an impartial third party to hash it through. Do you see what I mean?”

Robbie’s less than happy, but resigned now. She can tell. 

“Besides. If you were going to leave it until tomorrow anyway, how much harm can I really do between now and then?”

They both immediately reach out to knock on the wood of the coffee table.

“Yeah, let’s forget I said that.” Darcy lifts Monty to the back of the couch, stands, and gestures Robbie up with impatient hands. “C’mon. Hug.”

She throws her arms around her cousin once he’s up off the couch, squeezing tightly. It could just have easily have been Robbie who tackled their murderer, and him without the protective foam. She immediately banishes the thought to the, ‘didn’t happen, won’t happen, fuck off and don’t come back’ part of her brain, and just takes a moment to appreciate that he’s here. In her arms, breathing, and hugging her back just as tightly. His heartbeat thumping away reassuringly under her ear.

It’s so easy to forget that in her world of aliens, gods, monsters and superheroes, some of those she loves don’t have the benefit of super healing, advanced armor and weapons, or magic with which to defend themselves. Some of them are just plain old bog standard human, with all the frailty that entails.

Eventually they separate, both a bit shaken, but with Robbie looking worlds better than he had when she’d gotten here. With a quick glance at her watch, she can see it’s been forty-five minutes instead of the half hour she told Clint she’d be, but given how much ground they’d covered? She’s pretty satisfied. 

Darcy stoops to scoop up her bag, and sets her hand on the doorknob. “I don’t know how long this will take. He’s not exactly as chatty as you are.”

“Well, call or text me if you need a ride.” Robbie reaches out and opens the door for her.

“I will.” One last kiss pressed to his cheek, and she’s out the door. She turns to wave at him at the end of the path, as Hawkeye smoothly pulls up to the curb. One last smile and she’s inside the car, pulling the door closed behind her.

“Where to?”

“Hathaway’s, of course. But let’s hit up a couple of places first.” Darcy’s mind races with the beginning of a plan. “I’m going to need a few reinforcements to breach those defenses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Darcy’s shoes](http://www.saksfifthavenue.com/main/ProductDetail.jsp?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374306624269&PRODUCT%3C%3Eprd_id=845524446774282&R=889428001161&P_name=Alexandre+Birman&N=306624269&bmUID=kQUX6ta)  
>  Seriously, I can’t decide if it was lazy of the writers or if they just didn't care to pick up on it when the vet at the equine center mentioned that they always ‘have the antidote to hand’. Why are two incredibly bright guys chasing after a murderer who uses an extremely potent drug that’s fatal to humans with just a single drop of exposure, and _that has an antidote that they aren’t carrying_?!? This chaps my hide and has since I first saw the episode. Apparently I am working through those frustrations in this story. I hope it’s working for you too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. Some rather unfortunate personal news knocked me back a bit, but we're movin' on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's two additional tags that describe content that might be triggering, and the rest is my feeble attempt to try to classify that's going on here. Check the notes if you've got triggers.

“You might as well let me in. I’ll have to call another car to come and get me, and I’ll just be out here talking VERY LOUDLY for the entire fifteen or twenty minutes it’ll take for them to get here.” Darcy forgives herself for a tiny sin of omission. Hathaway doesn’t need to know that Clint dropped her off and he’s parked nearby for the moment.

She pauses. No sound from inside the flat. Okay, he asked for it.

“I MEAN, I BET YOUR NEIGHBORS ARE GOING TO LOVE ME IN ABOUT THIRTY SECONDS... oh, hello.” She grins as the door is wrenched open and over six feet of scowling, flustered, and highly annoyed detective glares at her.

“Ms Lewis.”

“Detective Sergeant Hathaway.”

“To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your delightful presence this evening?” Wow, she may have a challenger for the reigning sassmaster crown. He can really pack a lot of disdain into those cultured tones.

“I heard you had a crap day, and I look excellent in starched white cotton.” She smirks at him.

“I beg your pardon?” Hathaway has an excellent flat stare that gives absolutely nothing away. 

“Really? Have you never played ‘naughty nurse and sick patient’ before? Well, I can elaborate here on your doorstep for everyone to hear, see, and possibly make a Vine out of to post on Tumblr,” she says thoughtfully. “OR you can let me in and we can have this discussion in the privacy of your place. What’ll it be? I mean, if you want me to place the thermometer the old-fashioned way you can just bend over and….” Darcy’s voice trails off as he steps back and waves her in with a showy flourish. 

“Oh, please, do come in.” If Hathaway’s tone were any drier she’d be calling Thor for a little drought relief.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Darcy offers him an enormous, falsely sweet smile and sashays on into his flat. She sets the heavy bags she brought with her from the car down next to the door as he closes it.

Hathaway brushes past her on the way to reclaiming his drink from the coffee table. “Why are you here?”

Darcy frowns at Hathaway. “I was talking to Robbie and he told me a little bit about this case. I wanted to know why you weren’t parked in his flat, having a pint and unwinding from what sounds like a rough week.” She contemplates the man standing near the couch. He’s far from the collected, buttoned-up detective she’s used to seeing. Instead, his hair is rumpled as if he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly, and he’s wearing the casual clothes she rarely sees him in. Just a pair of disreputable looking jeans, torn at the knee, cling to his legs, and a battered, faded hooded sweatshirt that’s seen better days. He looks a lot closer to her age like this than he normally does, and she wonders just how much he relies on that suit for authority at work.

“Frankly,” Darcy says, “I couldn’t believe he’d left you on your own after what he told me. No one should be alone after a week like that, let alone the crap that went down today. So….”

The bastard actually rolls his eyes at her. “I’m fine.”

She doesn’t even need her finely tuned bullshit detector for that one. “Don’t be a tit. Fine, my ass. That’s why you’re sitting here. In the dark. Looking like ten miles of bad road and drinking by yourself?”

“I don’t really see how it’s any concern of yours how I choose to spend my time.” He gives her a cool look over the rim of the glass before taking another healthy swallow.

Darcy is not in the mood for this nonsense. “Look, I know you don’t like me, but do you trust me?”

“What makes you think I don’t like you?”

Darcy levels a flat look at him. “Dude. Seriously?”

Hathaway has the grace to blush a bit. “Look, it’s not that I don’t like you. It’s just… you’re so very….”

“What? Female? Loud? Sassy? Snarky? Rude?” She could go on.

“Yes, but it’s not that.”

Darcy plants her hands on her hips and walks slowly across the room to him. She’s aware that pushing him right now isn’t really very fair of her, given what he’s been through this past week, but he’s usually so emotionally armored up and she can see a few vulnerabilities in his defenses right now. He does his best to stand still and remain impassive under her scrutiny, but his eyes widen and his nostrils flare as she steps right up to him and stares into his eyes.

“If it’s not about me, exactly, then what could it be about?” She’s thinking out loud, but she can see the muscles around one of his eyes twitch a bit in reaction. “You don’t seem to have a problem with Americans, so it’s not about that. What’s important to you?”

Oh, she knows she’s definitely on the right track when his breath hitches ever so slightly. She thinks about what she knows of the man in front of her. “You were going to be a priest, but even if you were resentful of Thor and whatever theological implications he has on Christian doctrine, you don’t seem the type to take that out on me by association.”

She thinks over what else was in his file. Few close friends, little family, and the family he does have he doesn’t speak to. “Family. Even though it’s tenuous, I have a blood tie to Robbie,” she says slowly.

She’s close enough that she can hear his teeth grinding. “It’s Robbie, isn’t it. You’re jealous.” The expression on his face is complex. There’s some panic, but it’s tempered by…. Is that relief? So she’s got part of it, but not all of it. And then it hits her.

“Oh my god. I’m a moron. You’re in love with him.”

And that finally breaks the poor man. His shoulders slump, and he steps back, away from her until his calves hit the front of his couch. He fairly collapses into it, burying his face in his hands with a groan. “Well. It would appear that superb investigative skills run in the family.”

Darcy can’t believe she didn’t see it sooner. She can’t believe everyone that knows them hasn’t seen it sooner. The devotion, the care, the adoration…. It’s written into nearly every look, every touch, every move he makes when they’re together. Even when he’s giving Robbie shit, it’s done in a loving way. Hathaway’s really very good at hiding in plain sight, but if you know what you’re looking for and have seen the two off the clock and in a casual environment, it’s plain as day.

“Oh, James.” Darcy crosses over to sit next to him. “Shit, can I call you James? I can’t have this discussion calling you by your last name.”

“What makes you think we’re having this discussion at all?”

Darcy gives him her best ‘bitch, please’ look and he sighs. “Yes, of course, call me James. I apologize if I haven’t said that before.”

“Me Darcy. You James?” She waits until he nods. “Okay, well, I can see why you might be jealous. Here I come flying in out of nowhere and start taking up time and attention that I’m going to guess he spent with you before I came along.”

James reaches for his glass of Scotch and nods. Once.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“You didn’t know. Hell, he doesn’t know. I mean, like you said, it’s obvious if you are paying attention. For the longest time I thought, ‘No, Hathaway, he’s just pretending he doesn’t see it for plausible deniability’.” James downs the rest of the liquid in his glass.

“Or maybe he knows and didn’t want to have the awkward, ‘right, well, I’m your guv and there’s no way this can happen’ conversation. Or maybe it was the, ‘I’m pretending I don’t notice because I don’t swing that way and the conversation will be awkward even though I do care for you it might bugger our bloody fantastic working relationship so let’s ignore it and pretend it will go away’ approach.” James sighs, deeply. 

“Or god forbid he take me aside and say, ‘look, I’m sure it’s just a crush and you’ll get over it’, because that probably really would have ruined our working partnership for good.”

Darcy’s speechless. Of course that only lasts for a moment. “I can see we need reinforcements of the liquid kind.” She gets up from the couch and goes to get the bag she’d left by the door when she came in. Bringing it back over, she sits down nearly in Hathaway’s lap. “Right, so… I’m a hugger. I am ridiculously empathetic. I bawl at romcoms and at, like, refrigerator commercials that are obviously emotionally manipulative but that never stops me from having to find the nearest box of Kleenex. And I like to fix things. Since we’re about to get stinkin’ drunk, let me ask you a few blunt things first because they’re important.”

James gives her an excellent side-eye, but she notices he hasn’t moved away from her.

“You’ve had a hell of a week, not just emotionally but physically too. Are you in pain?”

Here he looks thoughtful for a bit, and then slowly nods. “Tackling our suspect might have fixed my neck, but I’m still pretty sore from that on top of the accident.”

“Would you like a massage? I’ve taken some classes. It helps Jane when she pushes the ‘no sleep, too much coffee, not enough food’ envelope too far and ends up with a migraine.”

He’s frowning now. “It sounds lovely, truly, but I’m not that great with people touching me. The day you sent us to the spa was very definitely an exception.”

It’s about what she expected, but she reaches out and covers one of his hands with her own. “Is that because you don’t want them actually touching you, or because you’re touch and skin contact starved and it almost hurts more than it helps?”

His eyes go wide and dart to hers, and his hand clenches on hers involuntarily. “How did you…?”

She sighs. “Helping Jane isn’t the only reason I took the massage classes. It helps me to be the one being able to provide the touch, but I get a lot of the same benefits myself.” She turns her wrist and interlocks their fingers so their hands are palm to palm. “I get it. I totally get it and I can explain more but I really need to get some booze in me first. All right?”

He looks a little overwhelmed but is back to thoughtful, and he goes as far as squeezing her hand gently before disengaging. He stands and pulls a few tumblers from the cupboard. One he fills with ice, and he adds a couple of bottles of water to the crook of his arm before returning to the couch. She figures it’s progress when he sits right back down next to her, so they’re touching from shoulder to hip to knee the way she's seen him do with Robbie.

She’s taken the moment to pull a few bottles from the bag. “I wasn’t really sure what your poison is, so I just asked for the best they had of each of these.” She points to the first bottle, and James’ eyes go a little wide. The Lagavulin 21 year old Special Release had set her back a bit. Well, set Tony back a bit because she’d never have bought it if she hadn’t had that lovely black credit card. There’s also a Polish vodka, an artisanal gin he’s probably not familiar with as the person at the store had said it was quite new, and…. 

“Is that bourbon?” James says. 

Darcy nods. “You can take the girl out of the South but don’t take her bourbon. I’ve heard good things about this one.” She reaches over to open the bottle of George T Stagg Kentucky Straight and pours herself a healthy measure.

“Refill? And if so, which one?” He silently indicates the Scotch, so she sits up long enough to pour some into one of the clean glasses before slouching back against him once more. She raises her glass. “Let us drink with impunity, or anyone else who’s buying.”

He snorts out a laugh but touches the rim of his glass to hers. Surprisingly, he also reaches for her hand with his free one and twines their fingers together once more.

“Okay, first off, you may have noticed I’m kind of blunt.” Here she gets the expected, ‘No shit, really?’ look that he’s excellent at. “I know, shocker. But what I mean by that is that you don’t need to pussyfoot around trying to be polite, or be worried that you’re going to offend me. If you hurt me, I’ll tell you. Probably at great length and high volume.” Here they both smile. 

“It’s not that I don’t understand subtle, or can’t be tactful, or even that I don’t have the patience. I just like to speak plainly, so there’s no misunderstanding.” She stops to take another sip. “If you want to consider this space, tonight, an unconventional confessional, do it. If you spill any secrets tonight, I give you my word that I won’t share that information with anyone unless you tell me I can.” Darcy turns to look at him. “I may not have dedicated myself to any particular religion, but some concepts are universal. No, you know what?” She thinks for a moment.

“I swear by the memory of Thor’s mother Frigga that I won’t tell anyone anything you tell me tonight.” Darcy sighs. “Thor adored his mom, and I adore him. That’s probably the strongest binding I can think of right now, so that should tell you how serious I am about this.”

James appears suitably impressed. “Well, I’m a failed priest but I give you my word as well. This will remain between us unless you tell me otherwise.”

They stare at each other for a moment. “If we were thirteen year old girls, we’d probably be pricking our fingers and sealing this with a blood bond.” Ah, inappropriate humor for the win. They both laugh a bit and relax into the couch.

“I’m not that great with touch either.” She figures if she doesn’t get the ball rolling, they’ll be sitting here in silence and he won’t get the help he needs. “For reasons that don’t really need exploring at this juncture, thank you kindly, for the longest time I didn’t understand that I wasn’t really looking for sex, but just touch. This has lead to whole bucketfuls of angst and related relationship drama, so I’ve kind of just… stopped doing that.”

Darcy sighs and turns to look at him. “But it’s not sexual, okay? I mean, you’re really kind of ridiculously hot in a posh, buttoned up sort of way, but I don’t want to sex you up.”

He’s nodding and looking relieved, corners of his mouth quirking up in that non-smile that indicates amusement. “I’m relieved. I mean, obviously you’re also very attractive, but I’m not looking for sex either.” He suddenly looks very shy and more than a little uncertain when he says, “But if you’re offering, then I think I might forgo the self-flagellation for one night and accept whatever comfort you’re willing to give?” He heaves a sigh that seems come from the depths of his soul. “It’s been quite a week, Darcy. And I’m so tired.”

She bumps him with her elbow. “I got one point of view on the week earlier. Want to talk about it?”

James scrubs one hand through his hair. “I was with that girl as she lay dying, and I was so shocked that someone could be murdered, right in front of me, with such callous disregard that they literally just kept on running after they injected her with something that snuffed out her life in mere moments. I didn’t know what to do. What to say. She asked me to pray with her and my mind just went blank. I have so many unresolved issues with my faith, and I hate myself for not being able to put those aside to give comfort in her literal last moments.

“All I could do was hold her hand and watch her fade away.”

This is said in such a bleak, hopeless voice that she scoots over to lean right up against him, providing as much body contact as she thinks he can stand right now. These are not the musings of a man who’s just now thinking about his purpose in life. No, this is something that’s been building for a while.

“I’m scared. Darcy, I don’t want to die.” She wants to reach up and stroke that jaw. Seriously. He keeps clenching it that way and he’s going to crack a tooth or three. “What’s that phrase your police forces use? To serve and protect?” James lets loose a mirthless sort of chuckle that sends shivers up her spine. “I couldn’t protect Vicki. She came to me, earlier, and was so frightened. So sure that someone was after her.” He shakes his head and swallows half his glass of Scotch. “She came to me and I didn’t help her, and then she died, with her hand in mine. Without even the slightest murmur of a prayer, or of comfort.”

James snorts, the wet sort of sound that precedes tears. “All I could think in that moment was, ‘My god, what if this was Robbie? What if that runner had decided to go after Robbie instead? He’d be the one dying the ground and there would’ve been nothing, absolutely nothing I could do.’ 

James rolls his head to the side and looks at her. She nearly gasps at the despair now visible. “Except, of course, that I am an idiot and there would have been something I could do. Did you know that etorphine has an antidote?”

“I do, yes. And I know this because Robbie is over in his flat beating himself up about not getting it for both of you for this case.” She nods as his eyes go wide. “Everything you’re feeling about that particular aspect of this case? I tell you right now, hand to Thor, that he’s thinking and feeling the same thing.”

He turns away and murmurs something under his breath that Darcy doesn’t quite catch, but thinks is probably ‘I’d like to believe that.’

“Hey.” Now Darcy really does reach up and grip his jaw and uses the leverage to make him look at her. “I mean it. He might not have been able to show it, because he was the senior officer on the scene, but he was absolutely terrified.

“James, he almost had to watch you die today. Right in front of him.” He’s still looking unconvinced, so she takes a deep breath and says it as gently as she can. 

“At least he didn’t have to watch Val get hit by that car.”

James flinches like she’s stabbed him, and he actually doubles over with a strangled moan. Darcy winces and bites her lip. Okay, maybe that was a little too brutal, but this seems like one of those times you have to be cruel in order to be kind.

“You might think that he doesn’t care for you the same way, James, but he does care. He cares very deeply about you, and today was probably one of his worst nightmares come true.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, broken only by the ragged sound of his breathing. She reaches out and places a hand on his back, rubbing gently. Trying to give comfort where she can. She takes heart from the way he leans back into her touch.

Right, he needs more than just a little gentle patting. She stands up, takes off her shoes, and indicates that he should stand up as well. He’s confused, but does as she asks, uncurling from his defensive posture and scrubbing his hands over his face. Holding up a hand, Darcy sits down with her back up against the arm rest and one leg stretched out along the back of the couch. “Shoes off, sit here and lean back against me.”

James frowns. “But you’re so small. I’d squash you.”

“I’m sturdier than I look, and you’re a beanpole. Get your ass down here.”

James looks doubtful, but follows her instructions, sitting in the space between her thighs, and gingerly leaning back. Pfft, please. As soon as his legs swing up onto the cushions, she slides her arms around him, pulls her other knee up so that her foot’s alongside his thigh, and basically gets as much of herself into contact with as much of him as she can reach. It’s hella awkward for a long moment, as he goes rigid with surprise, but bit by bit he manages to relax and lean back. 

“There you go.” She rewards this behavior with a gentle squeeze. He surprises her by once again reaching up and lacing his fingers with hers, covering the back of her hand and pressing her palm against his chest. Oh, right over his heart. Her own heart fills with a sudden wave of fondness for this complicated, prickly, and sarcastic man.

“Are you sure the non-Lewis side of your heritage isn’t from an octopus?” It’s weak, but it’s an attempt to return to their usual levels of banter.

“Oh, so many hentai jokes, so little time.” That at least gets a silent chuckle out of him, but the moment of levity soon passes. 

“This is nice.” James’ voice is quiet, but sincere.

“It is. It really is.” He’s not the only one who needs this. Darcy’s barely had any booze but she feels drunk on the closeness. Without warning, her eyes tear up and she sniffles a bit as she tilts her head to rest her cheek against spiky blond hair. It’s softer than she would’ve expected. “I’m skin starved myself, and frankly I am still feeling exceptionally weird over the course my life has taken in the past few months, so I will admit that while helping you is my primary motivation, I am not opposed to getting something out of it myself.”

He squeezes her hand again, rubbing his thumb over her skin soothingly.

“You’re so warm. I’d forgotten how warm guys usually are.” Darcy’s muscles are slowly relaxing. She hadn’t even realized how tense she’d been holding herself. 

They’re quiet for a long time, soaking up the comfort of another person’s touch, adjusting to the feeling of holding and being held. He breaks the silence with a quiet, “You smell good. Maybe it’s your shampoo or your perfume or whatever other mysterious potions women use, but you smell good. I’d kind of forgotten what anyone other than him smells like.”

James takes a small sip from his glass. “We share an office. We’re in each others cars, all the time. I’ve slept in his spare room more times than I can count. Showered in his bathroom, using his soap and shampoo and hell, even the toothpaste. Even washed my clothes in his washer, using the same detergent he uses on his own clothes.”

Another long stretch of silence. And then James says, “The job we do? The most successful coppers all say that the best partnerships are those that… well, it’s basically like being married. You spend so much time together, usually more than you do with your own spouse if you actually are married. You learn to read each other’s moods, and signals, and end up having an entire conversation without saying a word. Very occasionally, you depend on each other for your very lives.” He takes another sip. 

“Like today.” Darcy says, quietly. “That sounds intense.”

“It’s very intense, and you have to know and trust your partner at this elemental level if you really want it to work right. It usually takes a long time to build that bond.”

“Usually?”

James huffs out a mirthless laugh. “Do you know what his very first words to me were? I was picking him up at the airport, per Innocent’s orders. He was coming back after those couple of years in the British Virgin Islands, and he looks at this ridiculous sign I’d made with his name on it.” She can feel James trembling a bit now. “He says, ‘Are you for me?’ And I just.” He falls silent for a long moment.

“It felt like you’d met before, or you’d known him well, even if it isn’t in this lifetime?” Darcy surprises herself with her own words. 

James sits up a bit and turns his head to look at her, startled. “Yeah. That’s exactly it. How did you know that?”

Darcy reaches for her own glass, but his arms are longer and he retrieves it from the coffee table, passing it to her silently. After a hefty mouthful, she hands it to him to put back. “I know, because I remember feeling something like that when I met Jane for the first time.” She smiles, remembering. 

“I needed six science credits to graduate, but all the classes available were either full or way too advanced for me to have a realistic hope of passing them. I mean, they were all advanced classes for majors in those sciences, you know?” James nods, then turns back around and settles down again, capturing her hand once more, absently resuming his rhythmic stroking of her skin with his thumb.

She continues. “But my advisor mentioned I should check with the science department to see if there was something that wasn’t an official class but would count as credit anyway. Eventually someone pointed me to Doctor Jane Foster, and I knocked on her door.” Darcy grins, remembering the moment perfectly. “And knocked again. And then finally just tried the handle because the department secretary swore that she was in her office.

“And she was. Surrounded by a truly ridiculous number of empty toaster pastry cartons. She had her hair up, held in place by two pencils and a pen. She had another pen in her teeth, and was furiously muttering at one of the four laptops that were on and operating on this ridiculously long table that was serving as a desk. The rest of the table was covered with a couple of pizza boxes that should’ve been thrown away a few days earlier, and a whole herd of coffee mugs that had some seriously suspect fuzz growing in the bottom of each.”

Darcy shakes her head fondly. “Jane was so deep into her research that I actually had to reach out and poke her in the forehead to get her attention. She was so annoyed, but so adorably blinky and a little confused about this person standing in front of her. I had to repeat, ‘I’m here about the internship’ three times before she could get her head out of scienceland and back into the real world.”

Darcy pauses for a long moment. “But the instant our eyes met, it was like…. You know that weird feeling in your fingers when a jigsaw puzzle piece drops into position? There’s that odd, sliding click when you nudge it into place?”

James is nodding. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“It was like that. I knew that this woman was going to be important to me, and to my life, and that we would have _adventures_. The ‘interview’,” she trusts James can hear the verbal air quotes, “was laughable.”

_"You’re interested in the internship?_

_“Yeah, but you should know I’m not a science major. I’m a political science major, and I need six hard science credits to graduate.”_

_“Well, the requirements are pretty basic. How are your Excel skills?”_

_“Excel’s my bitch. I can make Excel sit up and beg.” That got her a small smile._

_“There’s travel involved. To New Mexico.”_

_“Sweet. I’ve got just the boots for it. I don’t have a commercial drivers license though, will I need one?”_

_“No, a regular one is fine. But here’s the big sticking point for most people. I can’t pay you. The research grant is small, and doesn’t allow for an intern’s salary.”_

_“Hmm. Well, is there somewhere to sleep, food, and maybe some sundries included?”_

_“I think we can probably do that, yeah. Might mean sharing a motor home though.”_

_“Eh, I’ve slept in worse.”_

_“You’re hired. We leave in three days. Oh, and I’m Jane.”_

_“Nice to meet you, Jane. I’m Darcy.”_

“And the rest, as they say, is history.” She’s crying now, but gently. It’s like her heart is full and it’s overflowing. Through her eyes. “We drove thousands of miles across the country to the desert of New Mexico, and fate took it from there. I’ve followed her into actual fucking battle a few times now. Across continents. I’ve bullied her into showering, into eating, and definitely into sleeping. I’ve actually had to sprinkle sleeping pills over her ramen noodles a few times when she’s gone over a week with very little rest.”

Darcy sniffles. “We drive each other insane every once in a while. We’ve had a couple of truly amazing fights. Like, broken glass, flying crockery kinds of fights? She can be rude, and dismissive, and flat out mean sometimes, and she’ll hit you where it hurts and cut you so deep you don’t even feel it before you wonder why you feel like you’re bleeding out emotionally.” She shudders once, hard, and James sets his glass down to wrap an arm around her leg to hold it tight. She really doesn’t like to think about that very long, very dark, very cold night in Norway when she nearly gave it all up. _All of it_. The temptation to just walk out onto the snow and lay down and fall asleep forever had been…. 

Yeah, she doesn’t like to think about that night, but they worked through it.

“She’s more than a boss, more than a friend at this point. She’s like a sister, and while there are some times when I think I absolutely hate her?” Her voice is thick with tears now. “I love her and always will.”

James sits up, and indicates that she should pull her leg out from behind his back. It’s a little awkward, but she manages. He leans back, smoothly grips her hips and pulls her up and over his legs so she’s basically sitting astride his lap, facing him. He pulls her down against his chest and tucks her head under his chin. One big hand comes up to cradle the back of her head, and the other arm wraps around her and she just gives up the fight to retain any composure and just cries her heart out.

She’s been _so fucking worried_ over Jane, still, all these months after the Aether and the Convergence. From what she’s been able to glean from Thor, being possessed by an Infinity Stone is a big fucking deal. She’s been trying to watch Jane like a hawk while looking like she’s doing nothing of the sort. And watch Erik too, because he’s been in contact with the Tesseract, and he’s still a little bananaballs. Now that things are looking up, she can finally let go and let it out. Thor is back and she doesn’t have be Jane’s only source of emotional support any longer. And he helps keep Erik on a fairly even keel. There’s someone to share that burden.

The storm of emotion is intense, but relatively brief, and it’s not too long before the tears slow, then cease. She comes back to herself, and takes a moment to appreciate the feeling of someone stroking her back and humming something slow and soothing near her ear.

James notices she’s calmed, and murmurs, “Better?” 

She sniffles, but nods. “Yeah. Though I think your hoodie may need a clean. Um, I kind of got snot all over it.”

She can feel his laugh more than hear it, since she’s basically lying on top of him. “It’ll wash.”

She squeezes him tight around the ribs before sitting up. “This was supposed to be about you. Not me.”

He smiles gently, eyes soft with something that looks suspiciously like affection. “It’s not a race, or a competition. I’ll undoubtedly be snotting all over you before the night’s done.”

She smiles too, and leans in to press her lips against his cheek. “Thanks, James. Just… thanks.” She doesn’t even think about it, just leans in and places a gentle kiss against his lips.

James inhales sharply, shocked, and flinches so hard she actually bounces on his lap. She breaks the kiss and holds his face in her hands, staring into his wide eyes.

“Sorry!” they chorus simultaneously.

“I’m so sorry,” Darcy blurts. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, no, it was fine. Really. I was just… I was surprised.” They’re talking over each other, but she mimes zipping her mouth shut. He smiles and continues. “It’s just been…. It’s been a really long time? I wasn’t expecting that.” He presses his lips together. 

She searches his face. He doesn’t seem upset, or even uncomfortable. Just surprised. “Is… is that all right? Is that something you want to do? Kisses aren’t always sexual.”

James looks faintly amused, but it fades to uncertainty. “Maybe? I… it was… nice.”

Good lord, who knew James was hiding all this sweetness under that prickly exterior. “Well, how about we try it again, and if you want to stop just let me know. All right?”

James nods slowly, and then closes his eyes and tips his chin up in invitation. 

She’s humbled by the courage he’s showing tonight, and leans in to place her lips on his as sweetly and gently as she knows how.

Darcy loses some time, as they trade slow, delicate kisses. It’s been a while since she’s kissed anyone herself, and she’s a little unprepared at how lovely it feels. James gathers her in close once more, and breaks away from her lips to lay his cheek against hers. They rest against each other, just breathing, and he nuzzles her temple, sighing. Hesitantly, he presses his lips to her cheekbone a few times, and when she doesn’t protest but instead hums contentedly, carefully drops butterfly light kisses on her swollen eyelids. 

She reaches up to cradle his face in her palms, stroking her thumbs along his cheekbones while she gently rubs the tip of her nose back and forth against his. Darcy opens her eyes and smiles at how relaxed and content he looks. James opens his eyes, and she’s honored at how open and trusting he is right now, letting her see everything he’s feeling in his eyes. “Good?” she whispers.

“Very,” he rumbles. “Very, very good.”

She drops one last kiss on his lips before tucking her head back under his chin. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she goes boneless, trusting him to hold her weight. They sit quietly for a while, just holding one another and enjoying the moment and feeling the other breathe.

When James does speak, he does so quietly. “I haven’t been happy with work for some time now.” He sighs. “I once told him, when he first brought up the idea of retirement, ‘when you go, I go. No one else would understand me’. And it’s true. I’m not exactly your average copper.”

“I can’t imagine you’re an average anything,” Darcy murmurs.

She can hear the smile in his voice when he continues. “As you like, but I know I don’t want to do this job without him. And even with him, it’s been harder and harder to get up and face each work day, knowing that it’ll be filled with more of the horrible things that people do to one another.”

She raises her head just enough to press her lips against his throat, right about where Robbie mentioned he’d been stabbed this afternoon. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

He’s quiet for a long time. “I thought that working with him so closely would be enough. That I would be content with the pieces of him that I had, and that I didn’t need anything more.”

Darcy slowly and gently eases out of his embrace enough to sit up to see his face. His eyes are troubled now, but still open and honest. “But those pieces aren’t enough any more, are they?”

“No. No, I don’t think they are. I’m not sure if it’s because there’s more people in his life now. There’s you,” and here James smiles at her. “You’ve been good for him. He laughs more openly with you than I’ve seen him do in a long time. You’re not his daughter, but I think you remind him of the good times he had with his family before his wife died. It’s like you’ve reignited a spark inside him that’s been buried for a long time.”

Darcy’s not really how to respond, but James continues before she can say anything. “And his daughter, and grandson. I know he wants to see them more often than he does. 

“And then there’s Laura. I’m pretty sure you picked up on the… undercurrents, for lack of a better word, between them?”

She nods slowly. It’s obvious that Robbie and the doctor have known each other for a long time, and have a comfortable friendship that both enjoy. But there’s also an underlying tension, a flirtatious tone to most of their interactions that’s hard to miss.

James continues. “They’ve been like that the entire time I’ve known them both. It was very muted when Robbie first came back from secondment. Oh Darcy, if you’d have seen him then.” His voice is achingly soft. “He was like this walking open wound that wouldn’t close, wouldn’t heal. For months and months. Waking every day in the city he’d made his life in, only having to do it without his wife? It's like it ripped him open again. Every single day. His grief was nearly a tangible thing that I could reach out and touch, it was so strong.”

James stops, gathering his thoughts. “Time really does heal all wounds, and as he started making new memories, it’s not so much that he was replacing the old with the new. It was more like,” he pauses, then continues, speaking slowly as he tries to put his thoughts into words. “Imagine a set of old-fashioned scales. Like the ones Themis or Lady Justice carries. On one side is his life with Val, and on the other? Are the sum of his experiences after she died. Obviously the side after Val wasn’t empty, as he was still the same man and carried many parts of his life with her over, but the sum of his experiences was heavily weighted towards her still.

“Every day he’s lived since her accident has added a bit to the new side. And over time the balance of the weights has shifted so that it wasn’t weighted so heavily in one direction?” James sighs in frustration. “That’s such a clumsy analogy.”

“I get what you mean though. Once he got started, and kept putting one foot in front of another, it got easier to keep marching as time went on. Momentum will carry you through.”

“Yeah. And at some point, I looked at him and thought, ‘yes, he’s healing’. It took a few years, but he wasn’t wearing that grief like a shroud. He didn’t look like he wanted to be sleeping six feet under himself, alongside his wife’s bones in the graveyard.”

“And you two got to know each other?”

Here James snorts. “Yes, but you may have noticed neither of us is, as someone once said, a ‘breezy extrovert’. I fucked up _spectacularly_ a few times, and while it really tested our bond, it never broke it. And then….” He stops, and closes his eyes. She slowly traces his eyebrow with a gentle thumb and he smiles as he presses a kiss into her palm. “And then, in the middle of a murder inquiry, completely unexpectedly, I found his wife’s killer.”

She can’t help the sharp intake of breath at this revelation. 

“I think that was probably the tipping point over into actual healing,” James says. “He seemed to be able to put her death behind him a bit more once he knew who had done it. He wasn’t so obviously sad? More prone to banter, he seemed more positive, less quick to snap in irritation. He was taking more of an interest in what was going on around him, instead of disappearing quite so much into his own head. And I do realize the irony in my saying that, by the way.

“I’ve lost track over the years how many people we’ve spoken to in the course of our jobs, and even at the pub, who’ve flirted with him. And he’s been completely oblivious, for the most part. They weren’t all women, either.” James smiles at the memories. “But the flirting’s intensified with Laura in the last few months. I think,” and here he sighs. “I think he’s probably on the verge of taking that step towards something with her.”

Now James is the one tucking his head under her chin, and she rubs her cheek against his hair as he continues. “And if that’s what he wants, I am truly happy for him. He deserves to be happy, and to be loved by someone who loves him back.” James’ voice is rough when he says, “In a way he can accept. Where he can be proud of his partner.”

“Hey!” Darcy uses his hair as a convenient handle and gently but firmly pulls his head back so he has no choice but to meet her eyes. “First, if you can’t tell how proud he is of you, then you need to go see a doctor for that raging case of oblivious you’ve left untreated.

“Second, you and I both know that if Robbie Lewis ever decides to step out with a man, he’d treat them no differently than he would anyone woman he dated. To think otherwise does him, and you a disservice.” Darcy is very firm on this part, because there’s no way Robbie would ever get involved with someone he felt ashamed about. Not now, anyway. Not since people are far more open and accepting than they’ve been in a very long time.

“Last but not least, If someone is lucky enough to be with you, James, they should be pretty fucking proud of that fact. Or they’ll answer to me. You are an amazing man, who feels deeply and is passionate about plenty of things. Yes, you’re ridiculously smart, but you are more than your brain.” She cradles his face in her hands again. “You are a beautiful person, with so much to give. You’ll find the right person for you.”

“I did find him. And I don’t think he wants me. Not the way that I want him.” James closes his eyes, and Darcy wipes away the tears that escape with her thumbs. She’s not really sure what to say to that, not without providing him with false hope or forcing a realization that Robbie’s not ready for, so she just pulls James close again and holds him as he cries. God, this really sucks.

Eventually the emotional storm passes. She cracks open one of the bottles of water and they share it as they sit, thinking. James eventually breaks the silence. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. It’s not just Robbie. It’s the job too. I know we help, but I don’t know if we help in the right ways. And since I really don’t want to do the job without Robbie….” He trails off as he looks up at her.

His face twists in denial, and he tucks his head into her shoulder for a moment, fighting to retain his composure. After a bit, he turns his head enough so she can hear him as he speaks.

“We had this case once. It was nearly my worst nightmare, and I’m not sure I could’ve fucked it up more if I’d actually tried. I lied to him, over and over. We had the most enormous row, right in the middle of the street. I completely and totally lost control of myself. And he said he didn’t want to look at me. He ordered me away.

“I never want to see that on his face again. I didn’t have faith in him then. I don’t know if I have the faith that he won’t react badly if I tell him this. I don’t want to lose the bits of him I have.” 

Darcy is trying to sort out the right response before she opens her mouth, but once again he continues before she can reply.

“Sometimes I dream that I’m Sisyphus.” His voice is rough.

What? “The one who’s chained and has his eyes eaten by vultures?”

“That was Prometheus, and it was eagles and his liver. Sisyphus was a king, and he was punished for chronic deceit by being compelled to roll a boulder up a hill, only to watch it slip from his hands and roll back down. And he was cursed to do this repeatedly, forever.

“Every night, I go home, bloody exhausted from trying not to give myself away, to walk the fine line between how I feel and what’s appropriate, manage to sleep a bit, and have to wake up and do it all over again. Day after day. The boulder, my regard for him, keeps getting bigger and bigger.

“And then something like today happens, and I wonder. What if I’m too late? I’d have failed him. And the longer we’re partners, the deeper I fall, the more this terror grows that I will fail him. I always fail the ones I love the most.

“Every moment we’re together could be our last. And… I find myself wanting to tell him. But I can’t, because I just can’t believe that it wouldn’t be the end of everything.

“And I’m scared.” James immediately looks ashamed and miserable for saying it out loud, and stares into his glass like it holds the answers for getting out of this conversation.

“Of course you are. Jesus, James, no one expects you to shrug something like this off in a couple of days. This is serious shit, literally life and death. You don’t, unless you’re a complete psychopath, just shrug and walk away and get on with your life without any repercussions.

“Give yourself some time. Ahht!” Darcy makes a sharp sound, anticipating his interruption. “Don’t. Just listen, please.” She waits until he subsides, grumpy but listening.

“You need to give yourself some time,” she repeats.

“Would it help if you took a little break? When was the last time you went on vacation? Or, um, holiday?” He’s silent for a long while. “Okay, if you have to think that hard to figure out when you last went, you obviously need a break.”

James purses his lips, and c’mon, that’s a little too easy. She plants a noisy smacker on him, and as they break apart, she’s relieved to see that he’s smiling. Faintly, but it’s there. If you squint. “It’s not exactly what most people would think of as a holiday, but friends of mine from my seminary days have invited me to go with them to Croatia to help at an orphanage for a week.”

Darcy pulls back to stare at him in disbelief. “You’re actually thinking of giving up your free time to help _actual orphans in need_ and you wonder why people would want to be with you?”

A bright wash of color paints the bridge of his nose and works over his cheekbones. 

“Oh English. For a smart guy, sometimes you can be really thick.” He rolls his eyes but drops his head, and she presses a kiss to his forehead. Seriously, this guy.

“Why do you call me that?”

“What, English?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s something my grandmother picked up from a friend of hers, lifetimes ago. She worked in a diner in New York after the war. There was this total sass master there for a while. A hell of a broad. Aspiring actress. Anyway, she was real good friends with this incredibly classy English lady who would come in all the time.” Darcy smiles, remembering. “She’s not sure she ever heard her friend’s name. Angie just always called her ‘English’.”

James just blinks up at her. 

“You’re just all buttoned up. It was… I dunno. A way to tease you a bit. I get the feeling you didn’t get teased a lot. Good natured teasing, I mean.”

“Ah. No, no I did not.”

“Not gonna lie, I also find it absolutely hysterical when your eye starts doing that ‘twitching in annoyance’ thing too.”

James nods decisively. “Now, that I can see.”

They contemplate each other for a moment. “I think I mentioned a massage, about a billion years and tears ago. Still interested in that?”

“God, yes please. If you’re still up for it.” James sits up and hold her hips as she scoots back far enough to rest her weight on one knee and slide off his lap, sitting next to him on the couch for a moment. He reaches for her hand. 

“This is really not what I expected out of the evening.” He’s looking a lot better than he did when she arrived. Frankly, they probably both look a little stoned with all the feel-good chemicals swimming around in their bloodstreams. He definitely looks well snogged, and his eyes are heavy lidded, either from the crying or the smooching.

“Me either. But if there’s anything I’ve learned over the last couple of years, it’s to just go with the flow. Let the river of life sweep you along, and do your best to negotiate the rapids. Sink or swim.” He’s beginning to look slightly annoyed. “If you’re up shit creek without a padd…mrph!” She mock glares at him as he places a hand over her mouth. 

“Hush, you. Are you hungry? We’ve been at this for ages.” James stands and stretches, and Darcy stretches out a curious hand to run a light finger over the visible strip of belly skin that’s exposed when his T-shirt rides up. Quite unexpectedly, James simultaneously curls forward and hops to the side with a squawk.

Darcy’s eyes narrow. “Oh really.”

“No no no. NO. Stay back, foul demoness!” He’s backing away, one hand warding her off, the other curled protectively around his stomach. 

“Muahahaha!” Her best evil chortle is pretty good, based on the grin her theatrics provoke. He looks a hell of a lot younger when he’s smiling like that. “When you least expect it, there I’ll be.” She wiggles her fingers and her eyebrows exaggeratedly, and is delighted with the bark of laughter from James.

“And I’m about to let you put those hands all over my body why?”

“Magic hands, James. Magic hands.” She takes a moment to do an internal status check. “Hmm. I’m not really hungry, but a piece of fruit probably wouldn’t go amiss. And you probably shouldn’t eat anything heavy if I’m about to give you a massage.”

“I’m really not hungry, but I think I have an apple if you’d like?” She nods, and he pads to the kitchen to retrieve her fruit. 

“We really both should drink more water too. How about this? You go and take a shower, because if I do my job right you’ll be far too limp noodley to actually get up when I’m done with you. And you’ll probably feel better if you shower. Just imagine all that crap from today washing itself down the drain. Know what I mean?”

James nods, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

Darcy continues. “If you’re okay with doing this on your bed, I can go get that set up?”

He hands over a lovely, shiny, delicious looking apple and another bottle of water and nods. “If you need linen of any kind, you should find everything you need in there.” He points to a cabinet, then pads towards the bathroom.

“Oh, and hey. Don’t bother getting dressed after your shower. If you’re okay with being naked under the covers and all.”

She gets a nod and a wave as he disappears into the bathroom and closes the door. Right. First the bed, then she’ll eat her apple. Oh, and text Robbie to let him know she won’t be back tonight.

Everything in the cabinet is neatly organized, and she easily finds what she needs. Padding over to where she left her bag and the other shopping bag she’d brought with her, she picks them up and takes them along with her to the bedroom.

The night is warm, but the room likely isn’t quite warm enough to be comfortable for this. She’s glad she picked up the very small space heater along with some beeswax candles and the massage oil. It had been an additional stop, after she’d gotten the alcohol, but Clint hadn’t been in any hurry. She could’ve done without the smart ass comments from the cashier, implying someone was going to be getting lucky, but her flat, unimpressed stare shut him up soon enough and he was extra hasty in getting her rung up and out the door. 

Darcy peels the duvet off the bed and folds it neatly at the foot. James doesn’t have quite enough pillows to use as props, so she’ll use it under his legs to make sure he can relax fully. A couple of extra sheets and an extra blanket and her makeshift massage table is ready to go. She lights the candles and places them in a few spots around the room, then lays the bottle of oil and a hand towel to catch drips on the bed where it’ll be out of the way but easily accessible.

Prep work done, she plucks her phone from her bag and heads back into the living room. It’s the work of a moment to send a text to Robbie’s phone. 

_Had a bit too much to drink. James refuses to let me drive as I’m probably over limit. Will stay here and be back tomorrow. - Darcy xoxo_

She doesn’t wait for a reply, just sets to work on her apple, which is as delicious as it looks. It doesn’t take long to finish the fruit, and she’s managed half the water when she hears the shower shut off. She takes the water with her back into the bedroom, and grabs her bag. 

Darcy nearly runs right into James in the hall. He’s clutching a towel around his waist, and looking endearingly disheveled with his hair freshly toweled and standing up in spikes. “Would you mind if I took a quick one myself? I could maybe use a T-shirt though. One that will weather getting a spot or two of oil on it?”

James nods and after rummaging in his wardrobe for a moment, holds out a Run DMC shirt to her. It’s very soft and obviously well loved. “This is great, thank you. Okay. Since you don’t have a footboard, it’ll be easier to reach your neck and shoulders if you’re lying the wrong way around. You can lay the duvet along one side of the bed? Go ahead and get settled on your stomach, and pull the sheets up if you’re cold. Oh, grab some music too if you’d like.” She nods her thanks and disappears into the bathroom where it’s still steamy and warm. 

She’d come to the conclusion long ago that it was always a good idea to have a spare pair of clean panties and a couple of small travel sized toiletries in her purse. The habit serves her well right now, as she extracts the small bag that holds a small packet of make up removal wipes, tiny bottles of face wash, toner and moisturizer, a couple of cotton balls, a pocket sized deodorant and her spare undies from her bag. 

Piling her hair on her head and securing it with an elastic that was also in the bag, she runs through a super quick shower, taking care of essentials and feeling relieved to be able to at least wash the remnants of her crying jag away. A few moments more, and she’s out of the shower and drying herself off, then slipping the T-shirt over her head. It’s a little tight around the bust, but that always happens and she’s not super concerned about it. It’s just a relief to ditch the bra for the night.

She repacks her things, and exits the bathroom, wrapping the towel around her hips like a sarong. James has plugged his iPod into a dock on the bedside table, and something quiet and new age is playing. “Oh, that’s nice. You’ll have to tell me more about them later.”

James stirs, turning his head to watch her as she moves throughout the room. She closes the door to keep the heat in, and then moves to sit by his side. “So, since this bed is a little wider than a massage table, it’s probably going to be easiest if I sit next to you or sometimes straddle your body for the best leverage. Is that okay?”

He nods, but clears his throat and provides verbal confirmation as well. “Do whatever you need to do to be comfortable. I’ll tell you if there’s anything I’m not all right with.”

Darcy nods, and with his cooperation maneuvers the duvet under his shins and ankles for support. She makes sure the sheet and blanket combo is loosely covering him from hips to knees, and then slowly and carefully moves onto the bed so she’s basically sitting on his bum with her knees on either side of his body. After checking that the sheet hasn’t been pulled too tight with the addition of her weight, she reaches for the oil, warms some between her palms, and begins. 

It’s been a while, but as she works she remembers why she enjoyed learning how to do this. It’s kind of a treat, making people feel better, watching and feeling as they slowly relax as she works. 

Darcy starts at his back, slowly getting him used to the feel of her hands on his skin, and steadily increasing the pressure of her strokes. He’s a mess of knots, and she’s gentle but persistent at loosening them. His upper back in particular is tense, and she’s a little wary of doing him further injury so is especially gentle in that area. 

James is relaxing into the experience now, breathing deeply and evenly. She shifts to sit at his side, re-draping the sheet to cover the areas she’s not working on, and massages the back of his arm before standing. Moving slowly, and with one hand on him at all times, she walks around the bed to give the other arm similar treatment. Darcy works her way down to his lower back and his glutes, closing her eyes and concentrating on the feel of the muscles under her hands. She checks in with James regularly, and receives little more than sleepy, contented hums as feedback. She works the back of his thigh and down to his calf on one side, then pads around the bed to give his other leg the same loving attention.

Once she’s done with the back of him, she sits next to him and rests a hand on his back. “Time to turn over, if you’re ready? I’m going reach across you and hold the sheet up on that side, and you can turn over without worrying that I’ll see anything you don’t want seen. I’ll even close my eyes.”

She gets an amused sounding snort from James for that, but she feels him shift, turn and resettle. “All done? I’m going to lower the sheet and open my eyes now.” Darcy opens her eyes to see him blinking up at her, looking sleepy and content and about a thousand times more relaxed than he did when she pounded on his door earlier this evening. She smiles at him, readjusts the roll of duvet behind his knees to make sure they’re supported and he’s not straining his lower back, and that the sheet covers him from his toes to just below his collarbone. She grabs a pillow and sets it on the floor before kneeling so she can work on neck and head. It’s not an ideal position, but it’s more comfortable than bending over him would be. 

James’ eyes slide shut and she studies his face as she works. She keeps her touch light and soothing, always ensuring that his neck is supported as she encourages the muscles to relax and release. After some time she gently sets his head down and works on the muscles at the hinge of his jaw. This provokes a moan of complete pleasure, and she’s not surprised at how tight they are, given how often she sees him clenching his teeth. She spends quite a bit of time on his jaw and slowly works her way up to his temples and over his forehead.

One of Darcy’s favorite part of any massage is when the therapist works on her head, and based on the noises of appreciation she’s getting out of James as she does some cranial sacral work, it might very well be his too. She smiles and spends a bit more time than she normally would on it, because she can see him practically melting into the bed. Eventually though, she dials down the intensity and gently combs her hands through his wildly disordered hair before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Let’s get a pillow under your head and shoulders now so you don’t have to move and do it later.” He makes a quiet noise of approval and the task is accomplished swiftly and with no fuss. It’s mere moments before she’s standing and moving down to work on his arms and hands again.

Like most people who’s daily job involves a computer for any length of time, there’s a lot of tension in his wrists and arms, and he groans softly as she slowly works tightness out of his forearms. He’s got interesting callouses on his hands, which she figures is probably from the guitar or maybe from rowing. Probably both, come to think of it. 

She’s worked her way over his chest and down his sides, skipping his stomach. For one, it’s a sensitive area on a lot of people. For another, he’s been tenting the sheet since he turned over, but neither of them comment on it. Most men are always at least a little worried that they’ll get an erection from the caring touch involved in a massage. Many do, but she knows, and he too probably knows, that the release of oxytocin, or the ‘feel good’ hormone can cause physical arousal. She just continues working slowly and smoothly, and is pleased that he’s trusting her to do this for him.

Darcy moves the sheet as necessary to get at each of his thighs, and smoothly works her way down each leg until she reaches his feet. He twitches a little bit as she works on the arch, wrapping both hands around and using her thumbs to apply pressure. Pulling on each of his toes earns her an amused chuckle, and one of his ankles cracks loudly as she gently rotates it, but he subsides as she digs her thumbs into the the heel and then the ball of his foot. 

“Okay James, I think we’re done. I’m going to lift the sheet up enough to pull the duvet out and put that over you. Just lie there for a bit while I tidy up. I’m going to go wash my hands, and I’ll be right back.” She can see him nod, and she squeezes a sheet covered ankle before sliding her hands under the fabric to gently work the duvet out from under his legs. It’s the work of just a few moments to get it spread out over the bed and James. 

Darcy bends to unplug the heater and move it out of the way so he won’t step on it if he gets out of bed during the night. She wipes down the bottle of oil with a washcloth, and sets it on the bedside table. She snuffs all but one of the candles before quietly moving to the bathroom to wash her hands. 

Her reflection in the mirror is nearly as relaxed as James’ was, even though she’s shivering lightly with the change in temperature. The bathroom is much chillier than the bedroom, and she finishes quickly before padding back into the bedroom to check on James.

He’s managed to turn onto his side, and his eyes are open, watching for her return. She gets a euphoric smile when she enters and sits on the bed beside him. “That was bloody brilliant. I haven’t felt this good since you sent us to that spa, and this was better.”

“I’m glad. It was an honor to do that for you.” She reaches out to run her hands through his hair again. He looks ridiculous, and adorable, and she smiles. “I’m going to steal one of those pillows and grab another blanket and hit the hay on the couch.”

He frowns slowly. “I’d rather you stay in here with me. If you’re all right with that.”

Truth be told, she hadn’t been looking forward to sleeping alone on the couch after all the closeness tonight. “Are you sure?”

He doesn’t respond verbally, merely lifting the duvet in invitation. She sighs happily and slides in. And oh, it’s glorious. It feels like he puts out more heat than that silly little space heater, and she makes ridiculous happy noises as he reaches out and gathers her close.

“’M not coming on to you, but how would you feel about ditching the T-shirt for more skin contact?” He peers into her face.

This time she’s the one who doesn’t reply verbally. She merely sits up and peels off the Run DMC shirt before sliding back into his arms. 

They’re plastered together, touching all along their front sides and their legs intertwined, and she doesn’t bother trying to repress the moan of satisfaction at the feel of all that glorious skin touching hers. Darcy doesn’t comment on the erection that’s pressing into her belly, and James ignores the fact that her nipples have gone hard where they’re pressed up against his chest. A lot of people might not understand non-sexual naked cuddle time, but it’s working for both of them. And that’s all that matters.

“’Some people grumble that roses have thorns; I am grateful that thorns have roses’,” James says, sleepily. “It’s a quote from a French author named Alphonse Karr. Feels appropriate. You’re so much… more than I thought you were, Darcy. And far better to me than I deserve.”

“You’re acting like this was some sort of huge sacrifice on my part,” she says, quietly. “It really isn’t. I like you, James. I hope, after tonight, that you might like me a little bit too.”

“I do. I have for some time now. I’m sorry I was so horrid to you for so long. I just… I’m a jealous, miserable prick and I took it out on you.”

“Well, now I know why, and hopefully we can be friends and work on making you less miserable. Not sure there’s any hope of making you less of a dick though.”

James shuts her laughter up with a kiss. “Sleep now, Darcy. We’ll figure it all out in the morning.”

James is asleep in moments, and Darcy follows him a few breaths later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Additional tags to be aware of before you start this chapter or the next** , though it may spoil some of what's to come:  
> Suicidal Thoughts, discussion of euthanasia (episode related), Demisexuality, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Platonic Kissing, therapeutic massage, non-sexual touching, naked cuddle time, romantic nonsexual relationship.
> 
> There is nudity. There is touching while nude. There’s aesthetic appreciation. All of it is non-sexual and is more for comfort, possibly the beginnings of a tentative romance. 
> 
> This was a complicated story to tag. Probably because Hathaway's canon sexuality in the show is... undefined. I have erred on the side of conventional tagging in the header, but be aware that they don't quite match what happens in this story. In my headcanon, James Hathaway falls along the asexuality spectrum. Demisexual, panromantic, and as particular in his relationships as he is about most other things. James is impossible to confine to a single, easily labeled box on the show. I don't know why I thought I'd have an easier time of it here. *snort!*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check the tags about triggering content in the end notes.
> 
> It's my birthday. It's a landmark one, and I am in desperate need of some serious wish fulfillment. This will have to do.
> 
> This chapter has spoilers for the Lewis episode "Life Born of Fire". Like, ALL the spoilers. If you want to be surprised for that really pretty fucking awesome episode of television (seriously, you should really watch it unspoiled), you may want to skip the section that starts with the sentence:  
>  _“We can talk about it in full another time maybe, but you know I was training to be a priest?”_
> 
> And you can start reading again when it picks up here:  
>  _“Oh, Darcy no. I wouldn’t. I promise.” James buries a hand in her hair and pulls her head to his chest._

James slows his pace and gently comes to a stop next to a short fence. It neatly marks the boundaries of a well-kept front garden. A little old lady industriously puttering in her rose bed, critically examining each shrub and pruning as she deems necessary. She looks up as James stops to peer at her plants.

“May I help you, young man?”

“My apologies for disturbing you, ma’am. I was just taken by the lovely fragrance of your roses. These are centifolia roses, correct?”

“You have an excellent eye and knowledge of your flowers! They are indeed. They may not be as ‘perfect’ as some of the other types of roses, but I think their perfume is just lovely.” She smiles at James, and he’s charmed by the way her eyes nearly disappear into the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes.

“I would have to agree. Do you happen to know if there are any florists near that would carry any for sale? I….” Here he stops for a moment. “A friend of mine did me a great kindness last night, and I wanted to give her a token of my thanks. I originally thought about tea roses, but that would be more about me. I wanted this to be about her, if you understand what I mean.”

“My goodness.” The woman winks at him and theatrically places a gloved hand against her chest. “I didn’t think young men knew how to treat a lady these days.” She winks at him again. “I don’t believe that there are any florists who carry these now.”

James sighs, disappointed. “Well, I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me.”

“Ah! You didn’t let me finish,” she says, shaking a finger at him playfully. “I don’t think there are any florists who carry them, but you are welcome to a bloom or two from mine.”

“Oh! Really? Are you sure?” James can’t believe his luck.

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. Which colour would you like?” She smiles, apparently charmed by his pleasure at the offer of a simple flower. 

“I think pink would be perfect,” James says. “Perhaps this one?” He points to a lovely bloom, very lightly tinted at the edges with colour that deepens to a beautiful blushing pink towards the center of the flower.

“ _Fantin latour_. Isn’t it lovely?” One quick snip from her secateurs and she presents the bloom to James with a flourish. “She must be a special friend to warrant such a lovely sentiment.”

“I think she may just be, yes,” James murmurs. “Thank you, ma’am. May I offer you a croissant in thanks for your gift? I just got them from the bakery up the road.”

“Ah, barter! Excellent. I would love one. My name is Violet, by the way.” She smiles, removes her glove, and takes a pastry from the bag James offers to her.

“Well, Violet, my name is James and I think you are as lovely and beautiful as your namesake. Thank you very much for taking the time to chat with a random passerby. And for the flower.” He sketches a bow that wouldn’t have been out of place at the court of a queen from long ago. 

Violet beams and returns his gesture with a graceful curtsy that belies her apparent age. “It’s been my pleasure, James. Now go and get that to your ladyfriend before it wilts.”

“Yes, ma’am.” With one last quirk of his lips and a nod, James continues walking towards his flat and to the young woman sleeping in his bed.

*****

Darcy wakes to the scent of coffee.

“Good morning. If you sit up, this delicious cup of French roast can be yours.” James’ voice is very close, and Darcy blinks open her eyes to a vaguely person-shaped blur hovering over her. She smiles as the blur moves closer and brushes her cheek with a kiss.

Hmm. More sleep, or coffee. Coffee, of course, wins out, given it comes with a side of James’ company. She inhales sharply, and arches her back in a luxurious stretch. It’s only as she sits up against the headboard, duvet puddled around her waist, that she realizes that the only thing she’s wearing are her panties from last night.

“You needn’t feel like you have to get dressed on my account, but if you would like to, the T-shirt from last night is to your right.” Dammit, she was fine until he said that. She can’t really see him, but his voice is rich with completely male amusement. She can feel a blush blooming from the top of her cheekbones and spreading down her neck to kiss her collarbones.

As she slips the T-shirt over her head, she primly says, in a voice still gravelly with sleep, “Coffee burns are a bitch on sensitive skin.”

He laughs, and after he gets a grip, says, “Hold out your hand and I’ll put your glasses in your palm.” She does so, and as she slides them on, his face comes into focus. He’s got a hell of a smirk going, and she mock scowls at him.

“Coffee. Now.”

James schools his face into something approaching contrition, and holds out a mug. “As my lady commands.”

“Cuddle.”

“Not big on words this morning, are we?” Despite his snarky comment, James nevertheless complies, crawling onto the bed and scooting his way up so he too is leaning against the headboard. He wraps a long arm around her shoulders and pulls her in close to his side.

“Better.” And it is. Darcy is most definitely not a morning person, but an attractive guy bringing her coffee in bed and then indulging her with a cuddle goes a long way towards making the horrible process of booting her brain for the day slightly less onerous. She turns so she can lift her legs over his lap, curling into his side with a satisfied sort of grunt. Resting her head against his shoulder, she yawns occasionally and continues sipping from her mug until it’s empty. Draining the last drop, Darcy makes a sad noise, and the hand not currently rubbing up and down her arm offers her a refill from the French press pot that seems to materialize out of nowhere.

“Good.” She rewards such excellent foresight with a quick kiss to the cheek and a brief nuzzle, and settles in to enjoy her second cup now that the first is down her throat.

“And now that you’re awake enough to enjoy it….” James holds out a beautiful, incredibly fragrant pink rose. It’s so fresh there’s still a drop or two of morning dew clinging to the petals. 

She takes it from his visibly trembling hand, and lifts it to her nose. Her eyes slide closed as she hums in appreciation. This smells nothing like the roses she’s used to these days. No, this smells almost exactly like….

“How did you know?” The wonder she’s feeling is obvious in her voice.

“Sorry?”

“My grandmother used to grow these roses in her garden. This pink was my favorite color out of all the ones she grew. This is perfect, James. It’s just absolutely perfect.” She looks up at him and her delight in the simple gift must reassure him, as he heaves out a comically overdone sigh of relief and wipes imaginary sweat from his brow.

“While I’d like to claim omniscience, it’s simply serendipity in this case.” 

“Thank you. The sentiment behind it is breathtaking. I love it.” She snakes a hand behind his neck and pulls him down for a sweet, gentle kiss.

They stay like that for quite some time, trading touches and kisses between sips of coffee, until the pot is empty. Darcy even goes so far as to let James drink from her mug, which he treats with appropriate gratitude, recognizing the honor she has bestowed upon him.

“Dude, we’ve been swapping spit for hours. I can let you drink some of my coffee.”

James snorts a laugh. “Now I know you’re awake. The snark returns. Feel up to some food? I went out and got some croissants from a wonderful bakery down the road a stretch.”

She mock glares at him. “There are fresh croissants in this flat and you didn’t tell me? Or bring them to me so I could nom them in bed?”

“I really like you, Darcy. But not enough to sleep on sheets littered with croissant flakes.”

“And here I was, thinking about calling you a friend.” She heaves a sigh. “All the romance has gone out of this relationship already.”

“Hey. I've brought you coffee in bed! I’ve given you roses! Take that back, or I won’t let you have one of the _pain au chocolat_.”

She pretends to think about it. “Well. If you’re offering chocolates as well, I guess you’re forgiven.”

“My lady is kind.” One last smooch to her cheek, and he’s gently lifting her legs off his own in order to slide out of bed. “How do you feel about a cheese omelette too?”

“Do we have time for that?”

“I already texted Robbie. I’ve the day off, and he’s got a late start. We’ve put in a lot of hours on this one, and Innocent doesn’t mind if he comes in this afternoon as long as the most essential paperwork is filed by the end of the day. He’d like to see us for lunch though. What do you think?”

“I think you are a prince among men. Now go so I can get out of this bed and go to the bathroom.”

He grins at her — a real, sunny sort of grin that she’s never seen grace his face before — reaches out to gently take the mug from her hand, and disappears in the direction of the kitchen, humming something upbeat under his breath.

Darcy shakes her head. Ridiculous man. She stretches again, grunting in satisfaction, then brings her surprise gift to her nose for another deep sniff. It’s been hard, running the gauntlet of his emotional defenses to get behind those ridiculous walls he puts up and hides behind. But boy has it been worth the effort. 

She doesn’t try to stifle the sappy smile she can feel spreading across her own face as she finally rolls out of bed. For the first time in quite a while, she feels pretty good. She’s made a new friend, she’s apparently got a cuddle buddy who doesn’t expect or even want sex in return for affection, and she’s looking forward to learning more about this enigmatic soul who’s been such an important part of her cousin’s life for so long.

And chocolate croissants! And great coffee! Not a bad way to start the day. Darcy snags her jeans and her emergency kit from where they’re sitting on top of her bag, and pads barefoot to the bathroom to take care of the necessities.

*****

The croissants are nothing but a memory and a few buttery crumbs scattered over the breakfast bar. James had even snagged a small jar of apricot jam to go with the ones that weren’t filled with chocolate, and they’d been little French-inspired bits of heaven in her mouth.

They’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, neither one inclined to give up any moments that could be spent touching. He’s got his arm slung over her shoulders again, and she’s resting her hand on his thigh. There’s not been any real need for conversation as they eat, but Darcy’s been thinking about their mutual confessions last night.

“There’s something I feel like I should say but it might change the tone of the morning.” Darcy bites her lip but looks up at James.

James nods and swallows his last bite of omelette. “Go ahead.”

Darcy takes a deep breath. “Just… be careful what you wish for. I got what I wanted, and it nearly destroyed me.”

He sets his fork down and gives her his full attention.

“Jane is… brilliant. Seriously. She understands astrophysics in a way that I am not sure more than half a dozen people on the planet can match, and she can work out how to put alien technology into a framework she understands, and then use it. I know I said it before, but if she hadn’t been there in Greenwich, I’m not sure Thor would’ve won the day, and there sure as hell would’ve been a fuckload more damage.”

“And we would be dead.” From the look on his face, James is remembering Malekith’s ultimate goal of unmaking their universe.

“Well, yeah.” Darcy shudders. “Anyway. She’s got a mind like few others on Midgard. And I?” She rubs her hand over her face. “I probably have an unhealthy attraction to intelligence and a huge competence kink.” James huffs a laugh and reaches for her hand as she continues. “It wasn’t hard to fall in love with Jane. Sure, physically she’s got that doe-eyed waif thing going on, but the more time I spent with her, the more I just fell for her… everything.”

Darcy’s quiet for a moment. “I thought it was just a crush on that first drive out to New Mexico. But it kind of spiraled out of control and I knew that I wanted to stay with her for as long as I could. Living in that motorhome together was kind of hard, but Erik was there to act as a buffer. And Jane was so wrapped up in her research that anything I couldn’t hide wouldn’t have registered anyway. And then there was Thor.”

Darcy looks at James. “It was like a fucking fairy tale. I shit you not. He’s a literal Prince Charming, and almost from the moment they met it’s like there was and never would be anyone else for her. And I was glad. I really was. It’s like you said last night — I just want her to be happy.

“And then there was trauma, and danger, and Thor disappeared in a rainbow of light and we had no idea if we’d ever see him again.” Darcy sighs. “Did I mention she was driven? We reconstructed and then continued her research, and that first year was rough but she just kept working. I kept her going. We were doing okay.

“And then New York. And I mentioned we ended up in Norway, and she was so down. Six months or so into the job, and I could feel her giving up. So I thought, hey, let’s have a real bender and just wallow and maybe getting it all out will help. So it we did.”

Her voice is rough now, thick with unshed tears. “And we were so drunk, and then she just reached over and touched my face and kissed me. And, well.” A long pause. “It was one night, and it was glorious. I really, really thought that maybe we could build something from there.” She is not going to cry over this. Not again. Darcy grits her teeth and continues. “I woke up the next morning, and Jane was dressed and sitting on the bed. She says, ‘Thank you, Darcy. I really needed that. But this can’t happen again. I’m just… Thor’s it for me.’ And she patted my hand. Fucking patted my hand and left.”

Darcy bites her lip so hard she almost draws blood, but she’s not crying so she’ll consider it a victory. “I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life, but that one. That one nearly did me in.” She looks at James, and he wants to cry out at the empty, dead look in her eyes. “It doesn’t get as cold in Tromsø as you might think, but it’s plenty cold enough that you could probably freeze to death pretty easily if you tried. Find a patch of ice out of the way, slip into the water in the night… there’s plenty of ways you could make it happen. I know you’re not dead from hypothermia until you’re warm and dead, but if you’re out long, enough odds are it will kill you.”

James gets up just long enough to kneel in front of her, gathering her hands in his and looking up into her eyes. Compassion is written all over his face. “What stopped you?”

Darcy clears her throat. “Love. I love her, and if I’d left her while she was in that state I don’t know what would’ve happened. I didn’t have any hope left for me, but there was still hope left that Thor would return after New York. Jane might not have believed, but I did.” She frees one hand to reach out and grip his shoulder. “And even after all that, I still just want her to be happy. And now she’s got that chance.”

James reaches out and gathers her to him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her as tight as he can. 

“Not gonna lie, English. It fucking blows to watch the one you love with someone else. Why do you think my visits up here have been so frequent, or why I got my own place to live? I love them both, but even I am not that much of a masochist.” Darcy pulls back just far enough to see his expression. “It does get better. It’s _getting_ better. It’ll always ache, knowing I’m not going to be with Jane the way I want, but she has what she needs. And maybe someday I’ll find someone who I can love like that again.”

Darcy is silent for a long moment. “So, you know. Just keep it in mind as you’re working through what to do in your own situation. If I can’t be a good example, let me be an abject lesson.”

“Thank you, Darcy. I know that must have been hard to talk about.” He ends the hug so he can reach up and capture her face between his palms. “And if you’re ever, ever thinking like that again, you call me. You find me. You get in touch and I will come and find you. Jane is not the only one who would miss you.”

“You asshole, I got through all that and now you’re going to make me cry?” And she is, though they’re weirdly happy tears. What a strange, weird adventure these last twelve or so hours have been.

“It’s a gift,” he says, wryly.

“Same goes for you,” Darcy says, poking him in the chest. “Just… call me.” He nods solemnly. “Right, well. I could use a fresh cup of coffee.” 

“I do have some experience at seeing the damage getting what you think you want can do. There was a case, a few years ago. It involved a former friend of mine. Someone I knew growing up,” James speaks slowly as he prepares another cafetiere of coffee. “We can talk about it in full another time maybe, but you know I was training to be a priest?”

Darcy nods. 

“And you know the Catholic Church’s stance on homosexuality.”

She nods again, frowning. This can’t be good.

“To make a long story short, I gave the standard party line to my friend when he came to me for advice about how to reconcile his faith with his sexuality.” James leans against the counter and sighs. “I sent him to a faith-based organization called The Garden that, well, tried to ‘cure’ gays.”

Darcy inhales sharply and crosses to him, reaching out to place a supportive hand on his back. “He was in a loving relationship with another man at the time, and… god, it just went all wrong. They loved each other so much that his partner went to Brazil and had a sex change. He remade himself into a woman to try to fit their relationship into the right kind of boxes. So their love would be ‘appropriate’.”

James closes his eyes and hangs his head. “It didn’t work, of course. The stress of the situation tore at them, and their relationship fell apart.” There’s a long, long pause. “And then he killed himself. At the altar of the church he used to worship in.”

“Oh my god.” 

“Oh, it gets worse. His partner went on a murder spree, killing all the people in charge of The Garden. And then. And then she came after me. I went to go spend the night with her, as a comfort kind of thing. She drugged my drink, and once I was upstairs on the bed, set the flat on fire and came to join me, explaining why she’d done what she had done as she was waiting for us to burn to death.”

“ _Oh my god_! James!” Darcy’s absolutely horrified, and squeezes between his body and the counter so she can fling her arms around him.

“I mentioned a few spectacular fuck ups, and that’s one of them. Robbie saved me, and uniform got her out of the flat, but she got free before they could get her into a car. She walked back in right before the flat exploded.” James sighs and looks down at Darcy. “So I’ve seen what kind of damage getting what you think you want can do.”

She’s just completely speechless.

“I realize that it’s playing into my fear of just how wrong it could all go if I tell Robbie and he doesn’t feel the same way. And I’m certainly not going to go on a murderous rampage if for some reason it does come out and we have to deal with my rather inconvenient feelings.”

“Just tell me that you’ll never do what Will did. Promise me, James.” Darcy’s voice is shaking. Okay, maybe it’s not just her voice that’s shaking. Darcy feels like she’s going to rattle apart with how hard she’s suddenly trembling.

“Oh, Darcy no. I wouldn’t. I promise.” James buries a hand in her hair and pulls her head to his chest. 

They stand like that for a long time, rocking back and forth. Darcy hopes he’s taking as much comfort from their embrace as she is.

Darcy finally pulls back with a sniffle and wipes her eyes. “I’m supposed to be helping you, not possibly scaring the shit out of you all over again. Especially after yesterday.”

“You don’t ‘have’ to do anything you don’t want to. It’s a relief, being able to talk about this with someone. There’s not really anyone I’ve been able to go to, and it’s been weighing on me. Heavily.” James cradles her face in his palms, wiping the last bit of tears away with his thumbs. “While you are frequently frustrating, occasionally infuriating, and an enormous pain in my arse sometimes? I’m glad you bossed your way into my flat last night.” He brushes his lips across her forehead.

“Thank you, Darcy.”

“Thank you for letting me in, James.”

The whistle of the kettle intrudes on the moment. Darcy shakes her head and pulls away. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Just gone nine, I think.”

“Do we need to do anything between now and meeting Robbie for lunch?”

“Well, I must consult my terribly busy diary, but I’m fairly certain there’s a whole lot of nothing in there for the morning.”

“Smart arse.” Darcy yawns, covering her mouth with one hand. “I don’t know about you, but last night was the best sleep I’ve gotten for a long time. Would it be terribly decadent of us if we stripped off and went back to sleep for a bit?”

James considers for a moment, pursing his lips. “Hmmm. Staring into nothing while playing melancholy classical guitar and brooding heavily, or naked cuddle time with an attractive female friend. Decisions, decisions.”

Darcy grins, and grabs the hem of the T-shirt, pulling it off over her head as she walks back towards the bedroom. “Well, let me know what you decide.”

James decisively turns off the kettle and follows.

*****

They’d spent nearly three lovely hours dozing, and trading kisses and tender touches, positively wallowing in the feel of skin on skin and the freedom to be affectionate with someone who won’t ask for more than they’re willing to give. They’d even shared a couple of cigarettes while still in bed, after James sheepishly admitted he really needed a smoke. Darcy hadn’t been willing to let him get up, so he’d simply reached over and pulled an ashtray and a half empty pack out of the bedside table.

Darcy had absently reflected that the last time she’d smoked in bed, it certainly hadn’t been tobacco.

“Dangerous thing to admit to a copper, Ms Lewis,” James had said gravely.

“Well, it’s been ages, and it certainly wasn’t in this country. And anyway, you’re in a band! Don’t tell me you’ve never tried it.”

“I won’t say I’ve never done it, but certainly not since I became an officer of the law. Hallucinogenic substances have a long association with religion and religious practice.” He says it so primly she bursts into giggles.

“Suuuuuure.”

“Oh shut it, you.” She’d stopped ribbing him about it but only because his arms were longer and he had better leverage in the resulting tickle war that followed.

All too soon, however, the alarm James has set on his phone goes off, signaling an end to their idyll. They both sigh heavily, but throw back the covers and get ready to return to reality.

Darcy figures there’s no point in being shy since he’s had his hands all over nearly every bit of her, so she casually slips on her jeans and then wrestles the girls into her bra. She looks up to find him staring at her with the most peculiar look on his face. “What?”

“It’s just… that does not look comfortable.”

“What, the bra?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s, what. Scratchy lace and some wire? And a somewhat rigid band around your ribs? It’s such tender skin. I don’t understand how you can wear it for so many hours every day.”

“Sweet Jesus, how are you… I can’t. I can’t.” Darcy pads over and to James’ surprise and consternation shoves him back down on the bed to snog him thoroughly.

Once she lets him up for air, he blinks up at her somewhat owlishly. “Er… what?”

“Never change, James. Never change. You are a precious snowflake of beauty, light, and a weird kind of chivalry, and if I could I would steal you away from Robbie forever and ever.”

Darcy gets up and reaches for her tank top while he’s still blinking at her. “Tax imposed upon the female half of the species by the patriarchy. I could go into a rant here, but I’ll save it for another day.” She looks at the sheer black blouse she’d been wearing yesterday with some distaste. “Do you think it’s warm enough that I can get away with just wearing this tank top?”

James shakes his head, obviously storing away additional questions for another time. “It might be a bit chilly.” He gets up and rummages through the wardrobe for a moment. “Here, try this.” He’s holding out a medium blue shirt in a fabric that’s at least heavier than her blouse.

“Buttons! That’s actually a good idea.” 

He holds it for her like a coat as she slips her arms into the sleeves. She snorts, because her arms are practically swimming in the length, but he helps her roll up each cuff so it’s not quite so ridiculously oversized. She gets most of the buttons on the bottom closed, but ends up leaving the top unbuttoned over her boobs. With the tank on underneath, and the shirt tucked into her jeans, it doesn’t look too bad.

And now that she’s got a little bit of James with her, he’s never getting this shirt back.

“Perfect, thank you.”

James’ phone pings with the sound of an incoming text. He reaches over to collect it, and frowns at the message. “Robbie’s wondering where we are, and semi-politely asks that we get a move on.”

“Best do as the boss says, I guess.”

James nods, slowly, and moves to the living room to put on his shoes. Darcy follows with her own bag, and as she slips her feet into her heels she can see that James is putting on far more than just his shoes.

It’s really painful to watch someone try to fit themselves back into emotional armor that they may have outgrown in the space of a few hours. He manages, though she has to clench her fists to keep from reaching over and pulling him into her arms, from begging him not to hide the man she’s gotten to know away behind walls of his own making.

Darcy of all people knows how very necessary it can be to have those walls up around the ones you love the most.

She sits, quietly, until he opens his eyes. Darcy wants to rage at the universe, because his guard is well and truly up once more, but instead settles for a nod and a smile. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” James replies, quietly. He stands, and offers her a hand up. “Oh, wait. One thing.”

He crosses to his bookshelf and after a moment, plucks a single volume from among the multitude. He takes it with him to the kitchen, and she taps her way over to investigate the rustling noises.

“I thought, if you’d like to take your rose with you, you could press it in the pages of a book?”

Darcy is delighted at the thought, and tells him so. She stretches to pluck the rose from the beer glass they’d placed it in for the moment, and dries off the stem while he rips a sheet of parchment paper from the roll. Handing the flower to him, she watches as he eyeballs the stem, then snips it to a length that will fit inside the book. He carefully folds the parchment around the flower, and gently inserts it into the book, pressing the volume closed carefully.

“I think that should work until you get home. Might want to check it every now and then to make sure it’s drying properly.” He holds out the book, looking a bit bashful.

Darcy beams at him and takes the book from his hand. She checks the title. “Sense and Sensibility?”

He shrugs, going a little pink. “It’s a hopeful story, in the end. You remind me a bit of Elinor. Well, and of Marianne, initially. But now that I know you a bit better your practical nature and common sense, and the fact that you’re such an excellent counsellor makes Elinor a much better fit.”

Darcy ponders this for a moment. “So you’re saying I remind you of Emma Thompson.”

James closes his eyes, pained. “Yes. Yes of course that’s what I’m saying.”

“So you’re… Colonel Brandon in this scenario?”

He considers for a moment. “If you like.”

“Huh. We must have read different books. I mean, obviously you’ve got the one where they strip off and enjoy naked cuddle time while complaining about their true loves?”

James reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Pants and Pantiesbility?”

James actually physically reaches out and places a hand over her mouth. “Pray do not speak further. Minx.”

Darcy, of course, licks his palm, and escapes when he shouts in horror and goes to wash his hands.

*****

The drive to Robbie’s flat is conducted in a comfortable silence. James has one hand on the wheel, as Darcy’s seized the other to hold for as long as she can. She’s surprised at how reluctant she is to let go. It’s been less than a day, and everything’s changed on her once again.

This time, at least, it’s mostly good change. Now that she knows what’s under that nearly impenetrable shell, she’ll be checking in on him more often. And not all of her trips to Oxford will involve Robbie.

They’re nearing Robbie’s flat before she speaks. “Will you be okay?”

James glances over at her briefly before returning his attention to the road. “I think that this burden is a lot easier to bear now that I’ve shared it with someone.”

Her breath hitches as her eyes fill. God damn it. Her voice is unsteady, but she plows ahead anyway. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. You’ve got my numbers, and my email, and I swear to god if you don’t use them I will bring Thor with me the next time I visit and ask him to take you out for a drinking and karaoke marathon.”

He doesn’t take his eyes from the road, but she can see that they’re wide as he takes in the scope of the threat. The last time she’d brought Thor to Oxford…. Well. Let’s just say it had been memorable. She idly wonders if they’ve been allowed back into that pub yet, or if the owner’s threatened ban for life is still in place. 

He clears his throat and nods. “Understood.”

“I mean it. I’m afraid you’ve been adopted into the patented Darcy Lewis Circle of Care and Nagging.”

“Well, if it helps assuage some of your concerns, I’ve decided I will do that Croatia trip. I actually emailed Innocent this morning with a request for leave, and it’s already been approved.”

Darcy squeezes his hand in approval. “Good. I mean, it’s not lying around on a beach and getting a tan, but I think you would be bored stiff if you took a holiday like that.”

“You know me so well,” he murmurs.

“I do now.” Darcy beams, feeling all kinds of warm fuzzies as he nods and shoots her one of his open and honest smiles.

“Yes. Yes you do.”

Moments later he’s found a parking spot and turns off the engine. “Well. Once more unto the breach, I suppose.”

“We come bearing gifts of food. It’ll be fine.” Since they’d been running late James offered to pick up Thai takeaway, and Darcy’s stomach growls in anticipation. “Plus he’s worried about you.”

“Hmm.” James’ non-committal agreement makes her want to smack him upside the head.

Definitely back to normal.

James neatly captures her bag and all the takeaway bags before she can reach for any of them, and is locking the car and striding up the path before she can protest. She rolls her eyes but follows, skipping to catch up. He automatically shortens his strides so she can keep up, and in just a few moments she’s reaching to knock on the door to Robbie’s flat.

She doesn’t get the chance, as it opens before her knuckles make contact, and she pitches forward into Robbie’s arms in surprise. Darcy manages to turn it into a hug, catching her balance before she knocks the poor man over.

“Look at you, sir! You too have lovely young women literally swooning into your arms.”

“Very funny, James. Get in here. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”

“As you wish.”

Darcy stifles her grin against Robbie’s chest. She’s got the terrible feeling that she’s going to have to work hard on her poker face from here on out, if James is going to be dropping huge honking hints about how he feels towards Robbie into their normal conversations. That one was straight out of the Princess Bride, and she wonders how many she’s already missed since she first met them.

And he did it without a hint of innuendo, and she can tell Robbie thinks James is just taking the piss out of him, as usual. The boy is smooth.

She pulls away from Robbie in time to see him staring at James with narrowed eyes. She knows what Robbie’s seeing and cataloging. Swollen, tired eyes. And, in a new development, swollen lips. Darcy blinks up at him innocently when James heads to the kitchen and Robbie turns his gaze on her, knowing that she looks much the same way, only with added beard burn that she couldn’t quite cover up completely with the makeup in her emergency kit.

Robbie narrows his eyes at her, and she makes hers even wider, giving him her very best ‘why no, there’s been no shenanigans happening here, guv’ look. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t buy it, snorting in disbelief and rolling his eyes instead. 

Robbie sobers quickly though, and leans in to ask, “He all right?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. And you?” She’s a little anxious, still, about leaving Robbie alone after their own chat last night.

“I’m good. Much better than if you hadn’t come last night, that’s for sure.” 

“This food isn’t going to eat itself you know.” James has poked his head around the corner from the kitchen. “If either of you would deign to give me a hand with this?”

“Oh, he is much better,” Robbie murmurs, sotto voce.

Darcy just shakes her head and laughs, delighted. 

*****

They’re relaxing with a beer when there’s a knock at the door. Robbie goes to open it and ushers Hawkeye inside. 

“Lewis, where the hell have you been? Did you lose your phone or something?”

“Oh shit.” Darcy scrambles in her bag for her phone. She actually hasn’t thought about it since she used it to text Robbie last night. “Everyone okay? Jane? Thor?”

“Whoa, whoa. Sorry. Everyone is fine. It’s not that kind of emergency,” Clint holds out his hands in apology. “It’s just that I’ve got Foster calling me every fifteen minutes asking when you’ll be back because there’s some sort of science emergency happening.”

Darcy’s got her phone in her hand by now and yep, there’s at least three dozen texts and a dozen voice mails, all from Jane. “Yeesh, will you look at that.” She winces as the overall tone of the texts gets, shall we say, somewhat more insistent as time goes on. “Yeah, looks like my flying visit is over, gentlemen.”

Clint nods at Robbie and James, then scoops up her bag. “I’ll take this to the car. Meet you out front?”

“Yeah, thanks Clint.” Darcy turns to James and Robbie, who are standing there and looking a bit lost. “I really wish I could stay longer, but I’ll take a look at the schedule when I get back and see if I can’t book ass back here PDQ.”

“You know you’re welcome anytime, love.” Robbie sets a hand on her back and escorts her towards the door.

“And if you get sick of his snoring, you’re welcome at mine.” And that, well, that’s entirely new. James’ face is perfectly even, perfectly normal, but she can see the tiniest hint of glee in his eyes at Robbie’s double take. James has never volunteered to have Darcy stay with him, and in fact is usually ready to get away from her after a day spent in her company. Plus, well, he's only got the single bedroom.

“I’ll keep that in mind. All right, hugs.” She throws her arm around Robbie and James in turn. “And now you two.”

“What?” Robbie says.

“Pardon?” James says.

“You heard me. You both had a shitty day yesterday, and I bet you didn’t do the hug thing. I’m not leaving until you do, so….” Darcy’s not going to give away any secrets, but she’ll be damned if she won’t… nudge things along where she can.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Robbie who moves first, catching James about the middle and reeling him in for a squeeze. James stiffens in surprise, but then melts into the embrace as his eyes close for a long moment, before the usual manly backslaps are exchanged and they part.

Darcy’s inner matchmaker is doing a jig of pure glee. On the inside.

She takes one of each of their hands in hers, and plants a resounding buss on their cheeks. Robbie rolls his eyes but grabs James’ hand and presses his lips to his partner's cheek. “She’ll have us airkissing like tarts every time we see each other if we encourage this,” he mutters to James.

“Dear me, however shall we stand it, sir?” James murmurs back, even as he feathers a kiss across Robbie’s cheek.

“I heard that. And just for that….” Darcy reaches up and pulls James’ head down for a brief, but very thorough kiss. When she finally lets him go, he draws back, eyes wide with surprise. 

Darcy turns to Robbie, who’s laughing at James’ reaction and, smiling mischievously, pulls him down for a slightly less ardent smooch. 

She takes pity on him though, and releases him. Stepping back, she surveys her handiwork. Yep. Both blushing like schoolboys. She’s still got it.

They stand, staring at her. She stares back, tapping her foot impatiently. “Really, Darcy….” Robbie starts, but doesn’t finish as James, seeing the opportunity for the gift it is, seizes Robbie by the neck and reels him in to plant one hell of a smacker on Robbie, and cutting him off mid-sentence. It’s brief — James doesn’t hold the kiss long enough to allow Robbie to really process the fact that his partner is kissing him before James lets him go, giving Darcy the barest wink as thanks and acknowledgment.

“You two are going to be the death of me,” Robbie sighs and gives Darcy his sternest glare, but he’s unconsciously licking his lips, and Darcy's going to count that as a win. 

For now.

The sound of a car horn from outside announces that Clint’s patience has run out, and she beams at both her boys as she heads down the path. “I’ll call you when I get there. Stay safe!”

She opens the car door and it’s not even closed before Clint’s pulling away from the curb and heading back towards the airport.

*****

“That girl.” Robbie shakes his head as he closes the door.

“She’s a handful, all right.”

Robbie regards his partner thoughtfully, while James does the same back. “Listen, got anywhere to be? I went in early, since I was awake, and wrapped up all the paperwork Innocent needed done by the end of the day today. We’re free for the rest of the day. More beer and maybe some Doctor Who?”

James, who’d been looking pretty tense just now, relaxes. “I think that sounds wonderful. Which Doctor?” He pads back into the living room and, scooping up his beer, flops back onto the couch with a sigh.

“I picked up some DVDs last time I was at the store.”

“What? New Who? Yeah, let’s go with Nine.”

“Not humouring the Northerner, are ye?”

“To be honest, I find Rose fascinating. She’s intriguing, don’t you think?”

They fall into their usual pattern of bickering as Robbie sinks into his usual seat right next to James on the couch, and he feels like he can finally relax for the first time in at least a week. They’re all right, and his equilibrium is once again restored.

Thank Thor for Darcy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional tags to be aware of before you start this chapter, though it may spoil some of what's to come:  
> Suicidal Thoughts, possibly toxic levels of fluffy feels
> 
> *The centifolia rose celebrates feminine grace.  
> *The tea rose is a token of gallantry and kindness.  
> *Pink roses are expressions of platonic love and friendship. The pink rose is often given as an expression of beginning love or admiration, as it has a gentler meaning than their red counterparts. Other meanings: Admiration, Gentleness, Grace, Gladness, Joy, Sweetness.
> 
> In re-reading divingforstone’s story [The Apparent Places of Fundamental Stars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3524198), it’s obvious to me that I got the croissant & apricot jam thing from that lovely story. If you haven’t read it yet, do. 
> 
> Laurence Fox ~~is~~ was, of course, married to the actress Billie Piper, who plays Rose in Doctor Who. For those who are interested, he’s also a Class A Troll and posts suggestive shots of himself with Kevin Whately, the actor who plays Robbie Lewis, on his twitter feed while they’re filming the show. The most pertinent of these for this story is probably [this one](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CJqWpr5WEAAhzWV.jpg). You can see some of the rest of them [at this link on tumblr](http://perclexed.tumblr.com/tagged/dear%20donald). Pretty sure Mr Fox ships it.
> 
> Like the story? Drop a comment and let me know. 
> 
> The quotes that prompted the story title are below. 
> 
> _“Culture is the suggestion, from certain best thoughts, that a man has a range of affinities through which he can modulate the violence of any master-tones that have a droning preponderance in his scale, and succor him against himself. Culture redresses this imbalance, puts him among equals and superiors, revives the delicious sense of sympathy, and warns him of the dangers of solitude and repulsion.”_  
>  \- Ralph Waldo Emerson
> 
>  _“If solace is any sort of succor to someone, that is sufficient. I believe in the faith of people, whatever faith they may have.”_  
>  \- Studs Terkel


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